#Ray left her off screen?

[jodielandons]

I just think that The Umbrella Academy writers just didn’t know what to do with Allison which is a shame bc she had so much potential! But no they made her lose her daughter, dropped her in 1960s Texas where she dealt with traumatic racism that was never addressed, lost the man she loved, was characterized as a villain for snapping after everything she went through, made a deal with the devil to get everything back, got the man she loved back for TWO SECONDS bc the writers said jk (: All of this for what? There was no point.

[nineteenninety-six]

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ Chocolate Bars and Injuries

Pairing: Jack Abbot x Reader

AN: I ofc watched The Pitt and became obsessed so here’s a fic! Beware of medical inaccuracies and ooc-ness and there should be a second part because I can’t stop my self

TW: Parental death, usual medical injuries etc

Synopsis: Jack unintentionally bonds with a young patient and then somehow even more unintentionally, falls for his older sister.

PART TWO PART THREE

Dr Jack Abbot would never admit it, especially aloud but he was terribly bored. The ED wasn't exactly busy at that moment with borders waiting in the hall waiting to be transported to the appropriate departments in the hospital. Dr Shen was in triage with a med student, residents were tending to the higher priority patients coming through triage, and Dr Ellis was checking in on patients which left Jack bored at the nurses station and Jack Abbot 'hated' being bored, especially on shift.

He eyed the patient board, hoping for something even slightly interesting. Just as he was going to take another coffee break when a new case appeared on the screen. A simple adolescent with a supposed fracture, low stakes but it was something to occupy his time and so he pushed himself to his feet and swiped a tablet from the charging station, making his way to the room.

You tried your hardest to comfort your little brother as he wiggled uncomfortably on the hospital bed, trying to keep him from moving his injured arm but as time passed, it was getting increasingly harder for you to do so.

A traumatising experience months ago had meant that when you suggested taking your brother to the hospital after an accident on the jungle gym earlier that day had ended up resulting in a meltdown. It had taken hours of convincing and begging, along with a promise to get a new toy for him to finally agree and you found yourself in a sweet spot in the hospital that night. It was late enough that the rush of the day crowds had left but too early for the late night antics crowd had not yet arrived so they only had to spend an hour in the waiting room before they were shuffled into the ED and onto a free bed. Your brother had already had his x-ray taken when you arrived and so you were just waiting for the results.

You were internally debating whether or not you should quickly run and grab a chocolate bar to placate your brother when the curtain was drawn open and you were greeted by a doctor and a nurse.

"Hi there, I'm Dr Abbot" The man's eyes flicker between the two of them on the bed and then his tablet. "And I've heard you've hurt yourself little guy."

Your little brother, Caspian, whimpers in response, curling up even closer to you.

"We had a fall at the jungle gym earlier," You responded as you tried to untangle yourself from your brother, "He hurt his arm."

"I've got the x-ray results here and it looks like you've got a fracture so we'll give you a cast and then you'll get to go home." Dr Abbot turns to the nurse beside them and quickly mutters off what he needs before the nurse nods and leaves them.

"You hear that Cas?" You turn to your brother, "Nice and quick!"

Caspian's pout deepens, "Chocolate?"

You huff a disbelieving laugh at him before you turn to Dr Abbot who watched the both of you with a curious look.

"Is there a vending machine here?" You ask, already reaching for your purse.

"Yeah, down the hall and around the corner" Dr Abbot tells you, "I'll stay with him, the nurse will be back shortly."

You turn back to Caspian, cautious of how he would do without her, "I won't be long. Please behave for Dr Abbot"

You stepped past Dr Abbot as you left and he was momentarily dazed by the scent of your perfume as you breezed by. He watched you until you disappeared from his line of sight and then brought himself back to reality. For all he knew, the kid on the bed was yours and you were probably married as well.

Caspian eyed Dr Abbot with apprehension as the doctor took a seat on the stool. The doctor was generally quite awkward with children, of course he came across them and treated them when they arrived in the ED but talking and interacting with children was just out of his comfort zone. 

"So, uh, what's your favourite chocolate bar?"

Caspian giggles at his questions, his shoulders retreating from his shoulders as he considers his answer.

"Kitkat!"

Dr Abbot laughs, "Yeah? I like that too."

"I'm going to get a new toy tomorrow!" Caspian bragged to the doctor.

Jack couldn't help but laugh again. He had no idea why but he finds it easy to talk and get along with the kid.

"Yeah..Because you're doing so good today?" 

"Uh-huh!"

You returned shortly with a handful of chocolate you had got from the vending machine, interrupting their conversation and Caspian perked up at the sight of you, eagerly reaching for a kitkat.

"Thank you~" Caspian spoke around a mouthful of chocolate.

"Don't be gross and don't speak with your mouth full." You chastise Caspian, as you dumped the rest of your haul into your bag but Dr Abbot spied the smile on your face despite your words.

Soon the nurse returns with the supplies for the cast and Caspian is brought back to earth, crying into your shoulder as you try to comfort him.

"You can sit with your mom little man, but you gotta shift a bit so I can access your arm."

You freeze momentarily at his words. It's not the first time you've been mistaken as his mom, you're most definitely old enough to be but since you've gotten custody, it's happened more frequently.

"Oh I'm not his mom. I'm his older sister." You correct the doctor.

"Oh" Dr Abbot pauses, "My apologies"

You shrug, "It's fine. No worries"

Dr Abbot was silent as he wrapped Caspian's arm, only breaking the silence to ask him what colour Caspian wanted before he returned to his work. Truthfully, he wouldn't normally do something like this but it was quiet in the ED that evening and he had also taken a little liking to the quiet boy and his sister.

After he had done the final patches, he looked up and saw Caspian half asleep in his sister's arms and so he lowered his voice as he spoke to you.

"We're done here." Dr Abbot shifted his stool a bit closer to you, "It'll take around four to six weeks to heal and the nurse will be back with your discharge papers and your care plan that outlines the next steps."

"Thank you" You smile at Dr Abbot, "Seriously. Cas doesn't have the best experience in hospitals and I don't know how you did but he felt calm around you. He is usually quite upset and irritable but I think he likes you."

"Ah, it wasn't me, he's a cool kid." Dr Abbot felt shy, almost, of the gratitude he was receiving.

After you thanked him one last time before he left, you waited patiently for the nurse to return but as you dug in your bag for one of the chocolates you bought earlier for a snack, you unknowingly woke your young brother.

"Dr Abbot likes KitKat…" Caspian murmurs against your shoulder, surprising you.

"Holy sh—" You gasp, your heart thundering against your chest, "Did I wake you?"

Caspian nods before he repeats what he said, "Dr Abbot likes KitKat."

"...Yeah I heard you…" Your words trail off as you get a sudden idea, digging back in your bag for a random receipt and grabbing a pen nearby.

Hours later, long after you and your brother had been discharged, Dr Jack Abbot was sitting at the nurses station, taking a breather after a sudden rapid set of back to back patients. He was sipping his coffee and talking to the night shift charge nurse when the nurse he had worked with earlier made their way over to him with something in their hand.

The nurse had a soft smile as they passed over the item, "This was left behind for you."

Jack reached for the item, a curious expression on his face. "By the kid?"

The nurse nodded before they left, returning to other patients.

Jack looked down at the item and smiled. It was a Kitkat bar wrapped in an old receipt that had a little note scribbled on it.

'Cas said you liked Kitkats. I hope you enjoy it ❤'

Veronica, the night shift charge nurse curiously peers over at him, "What's that?"

Jack waved the chocolate bar before he opened it up and took a quick bite before he elaborated, "The sister of the kid with the broken arm left this for me. She bought a bunch from the vending machine earlier."

Veronica smiled at him, "That's kind of her."

Jack smiled to himself, "...Yeah"

It would be just under two months later when you see Dr Abbot again but at least this time it was you in the hospital bed and not Caspian.

It was nearing one am and you were relaxed in the hospital bed, sleep tugging at you as you tried your hardest not to drift asleep. Caspian was fast asleep in your lap and you felt almost jealous of him. If your palm wasn't almost split in half and burning in pain, you would have gone to sleep and gone to the hospital the next day but alas that wouldn't have been a good idea.

You were on the edge of falling asleep when the door opened and a doctor introduced himself.

It was Dr Abbot again.

The doctor paused at the end of the bed, recognising you as well.

You sat up, the urge to sleep disappearing at the sight of the doctor, smile tugging on your lips, "Dr Abbot, it's you again"

"You know, most people don't see an ED doc twice in a month and if they do, they usually aren't happy about it" Dr Abbot replied as he read over your chart.

“Can I be technical and count them separately?” You joke, “Once as a family member and once as a patient, they can’t be combined.”

“Says who?” Jack asks, pulling up a stool up to your side to examine your wound.

“I say,” you joke once more, pausing when Dr. Abbott looks up at you. “Or do I need a doctor’s backing as well?”

His movements are gentle, pausing to give you a moment to breathe after you wince in pain when he gently pulls away the dishcloth you had haphazardly wrapped around your hand after you had sliced it open. His words are soft as he explains his actions, his voice a low murmur that sends a warm shiver down your spine. His touch is soft yet firm, confidence and warmth radiating through his gloves as he pokes and prods around your wound.

"How did this happen?"

"Lost a fight against a craft knife" You laugh.

"Yeah, those don't tend to end well." Jack murmurs, eyes still on your hand.

"I found some of those DIY decorations online and decided to try it out," You huff and roll your eyes, "I think next time I'll just stick to stuff in the stores."

"It's going to need stitches" Dr Abbot announces as he pulls back and stands, "I'll be back with the nurse and then we can get started."

Dr Abbot disappears quickly but the door slamming behind him wakes Caspian and now you were tasked with calming the tired and irritable five-year old with one hand but when Dr Abbot returns, all of Caspian's bad mood disappears at the appearance of the doctor. You were surprised he even remembered Dr Abbot but you weren't going to complain.

"Dr Abbot!" Caspian beams.

"Caspian!" Dr Abbot indulges the young child, "How's your arm?"

Caspian flaunts his cast free arm proudly, "It's better now, it doesn't hurt nomore!"

"And you're keeping out of trouble? Being good for your big sister?" Dr Abbot asks, gently guiding your arm into the correct position as he pulls the tray of equipment he needs closer.

Caspian nods before you pass him your phone and send him to the chair in the corner of the room so he can entertain himself and not see you get stitched up.

"I wanted to apologise again about last time" Dr Abbot says as he meticulously stitches you up after he numbed the area.

At your confused expression, he elaborates, "When I called you Caspian's mother."

"You're not the first one to think that so don't beat yourself up. I'm twenty-five years older than him so it's a common assumption," You clarify, laughing at the shocked expression on the doctor's face, "I was a 'oh shit we're too young to have kids baby' and he was a 'oh shit we're too old to have kids baby'."

Jack can't help but be curious, his mouth opening before he could stop himself, "And you take care of him? What about your parents?"

At this, your expression changes slightly. Your brows lower and your lips pout a bit, "They uh- died a few months ago…car accident."

Once again, Jack had shot himself in the foot.

"My apologies. Again." Jack murmurs as he finishes up the stitches, "I apparently can't help but put my foot in my mouth whenever I speak to you."

Your lips quirk at his admission, "You get nervous when you speak to me?"

Jack's eyes flicker up at you, his own lips falling into a small smile, "Are you teasing me?"

"More like flirting but I think I need to brush up on my skills." Your eyes never leave Jack's face.

Oh how Jack wanted to flirt back but you were young. Too young, he tried to rationalise. He was in his mid forties and you were in your early thirties at most. Both adults yes, but Jack tries to convince himself that the age gap is too large.

Jack will always deny it but you were certain you saw him flush. Red spread across the top of his cheeks before he tucked his head down in embarrassment. Jack finishes stitching and wrapping your hand in silence before he pulls away, telling you the next steps once you've left the hospital. Feeling guilty of putting him on the spot, you reach out to grab his wrist with you non-injured hand, pulling him to a stop,

"I'm sorry," You apologize, "If I overstepped or made you uncomfortable. It wasn't my intention, I promise." 

"No harm done, I assure you." Jack tries his hardest to appear unaffected, stepping away from you, "We're done here, the nurse will be back soon with your discharge papers."

"Actually," You reach back out to take hold of his arm and shyly look up at him,"If you have the time, can you keep an eye on him for a moment? I need the bathroom."

Jack considered it for a moment, he wasn't needed at the moment and all the nurses needed to do was call his name and he'll come running so he agreed, "Sure."

You squeeze his arm thankfully before you leave the room which catches Caspian's attention and he watches you leave with wide eyes. 

Jack turns to the young boy, "I enjoyed the chocolate you left me last time."

Caspian's eyes light up at Jack's word as he climbs down off of the chair before he climbs onto the bed so that he is closer to Jack. "I told her you liked 'em!"

Jack paused, the idea of reciprocating the chocolate gifting entering his head. 

"Hey kid," Jack focused back on Caspian, "What's your sister's favourite chocolate?"

Caspian's nose scrunched in disgust as he answered, "Bounty…gross!"

Jack's own nose scrunches in disgust at the answer, "...Yeah you're right about that kid."

Soon you return back to the room, the nurse not far behind you as they hand you the discharge paper for you to sign.

"Did you drive here? How are you getting home?" Jack asked, concern leaking through his words.

The nurse flashes him a curious look, a doctor did not usually concern themselves with how patients were getting home.

You peer up at him from where you were signing the papers, "No we taxied. We'll be fine won't we Cas?"

"Yep!" Caspian chirped.

Jack paused as if he wanted to say more before he eventually nodded, wishing them well before leaving. Jack immediately made his way to the vending machine and bought a Bounty chocolate bar and when he returned to the nurses station and pulled out a post-it note and a pen, he paused as he thought about what he should write before settling on, 

'Let's hope the next time I see you, it isn't in my ED. Enjoy. - Jack Abbot'

"You're not going to leave your number?" Teased Veronica over his shoulder.

In a moment of doubt, he asked her for advice, "It's not too much is it?"

"No! It has a good mix of flirting and you, Sergeant grumpy" Veronica assures, referencing the nickname he had garnered during his time at The Pitt.

Jack watches as the nurse guides you and your brother out of the ED and Veronica leans down to whisper in his ear, "You're running out of time."

Jack knows she is right so he quickly follows after you,  the chocolate bar held firmly in his hand as he searches for you in front of the hospital. 

"Hey," He calls your name, jogging up to you, holding out the chocolate bar towards you, "A little birdie helped me return the favour."

You looked down and smiled at the bounty chocolate bar in your hands, "My favourite! This little birdie of yours is very smart."

You grin down at Caspian who simply smiled tiredly, the late hour affecting him now.

Just then the taxi pulled up, and you placed the chocolate in your pocket as you focussed getting Caspian buckled inside but before you made your way into the cab, you smiled at him. A full sincere smile that leaves Jack breathless.

"Thank you Dr Abbot, for everything. You've made our hospital visits durable and Cas has really taken a liken to you. Really, thank you for everything" 

With that you wave at him before you climb into the cab which shortly pulls away leaving Jack alone in front of the hospital, kicking himself for not writing his phone number on the post-it.

Jack let out a dismayed sigh before returning back to the ED, regretting letting you leave without a number.  

[calebsmoocher]

Restraining him with his own evol

Caleb’s a renowned bully in the bedroom. Using his evol to carry out his freaky fantasies is not new for him. Turns out though, resonating in bed grants MC the ability to use Caleb’s evol by proxy. With the tables turned, she’s got all night to make it even.  Cw: smut (MDNI!), inappropriate use of evol (my favourite tag), power play, switch!CalebMC, overstimulation, handjob, panty sniffer!Caleb is back but MC induces it, gagging him with her panties, exploration of MC’s evol, fluff, guys don’t run when I say it’s 10k…

“Fuck, stop rushing in like that!” 

Breathless, she falls to her knees as Caleb fends off the wanderer’s ranged attack. The debris stops mid-air around them, suspended by his evol, before flying back at the monster. It’s launched back by the sheer force of Caleb’s attack, crying out as its body hits the wall. He holds out a hand to her but she only looks at him dazed. She’s starting to see double. 

“Tch.” He clicks his tongue in exasperation, grabbing her by the arm and hauling her to her feet. “Baby, focus.”

She wipes the sweat off her brow, shaking his arm off and taking a defensive stand. 

“Yeah.” 

Here they are, standing in the arena lit up in blazing glory. Thousands of lights adorn the marble walls, the heat glaring on the back of her neck. She’s dragged him to Deepspace Trials before, but they’ve been going at it for nearly five hours. She sucks in a breath, fiddling with the firearm between her shaking fingers. She can feel it. Through the rampant raging of her heart she can feel that peculiar buzz in her stomach as she stands beside Caleb. Feel the tremor in her smile as she feels the surge of energy ignite through her veins. Caleb looks at her knowingly, nodding his head towards to the left. They run together, charging towards the group of wanderers baring their teeth at them.

“Okay, now!”

She can’t fight the smile as a golden glow surrounds her. She feels the swell of her heart as her body lifts into the air. Her every sense, every fibre of her being is being consumed whole by him. Like her soul is in an intricate dance, swirling together as she feels his energy intertwine with hers. She’s resonating so powerfully with him, rays of canary yellow blooming from her hands and into the ruthless bullets she’s firing. For the brief few seconds she’s in the air she has a taste of his evol. And it sets fire to every nerve in her body. She feels his power and energy encircle her completely, invading her mind and surging through every nook and cranny. For those few seconds, she feels him at his most raw. 

But it’s over so soon.

They hit the ground together, guns still aimed at the now weakened wanderers. Their shields have all but been annihilated. And every new bullet into them has them wailing out as they curl into themselves. When the fatal bullet hits them, their exteriors crumble and only protocores are left behind. 

She lets out a shaky sigh, hanging low and resting on her hands on her knees. Caleb’s chest is heaving beside her and he throws his guns back into their holsters. She goes to collect the protocores, tossing them up in her hand. 

She turns to him, rolling her bottom lip between her teeth.

“I wanna go again.”

He throws his head back. “I thought we were going to be relaxing on my time off, but all you wanna do is train.” He runs his hand through his hair before taking the protocores from her and walking towards the administration shute. “No good sparring partners at the association, pipsqueak?”

“Something like that.” She brings up the arena’s electronic screen, scanning her ID and initialising a new stage. 

The screen fills with a list of options, from wanderer type to environment selection. Scrolling absentmindedly, she clicks on ‘tundra’ and requests for a few low-threat wanderers to be simulated. It doesn’t matter what she picks. As long as she gets to resonate with him. Gets to lay in that bath of energy and weightlessness that is otherwise intangible. 

“Okay, you ready?”

He hums in affirmation, but his body is sagged. “This is the last trial for today, you hear me? After this we’re going home.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The lights dim, encasing them in a murky darkness. She feels the vents above them whirl to life and the ground rumble. There’s a sudden breeze and it makes her lock her arms together, rubbing them for warmth. When the lights blaze back to life, the ground beneath them is uneven. Littered with rocks and boulders the size of her own body if she was curled up. The marble walls have all but disappeared, instead simulating the expanse of a frigid tundra. Artificial wind almost knocks her off her feet, but Caleb catches her in time.

“Out of all the biomes, you had to pick the one where we’re gonna freeze to death before we see a wanderer?” He pinches the bridge of his nose before wrapping his frozen fingers around his guns. She can’t even tremble out an apology before five wanderers spawn in front of them. 

But all that anxiety and dread is quickly smothered as she feels that familiar buzz in her stomach. 

“Let’s break their shields first,” she says, a little too excitedly. He cocks a brow but nods nonetheless. 

“Yeah, okay. Lead the way.” She signals him to go left while she takes the right, encircling the crowd of monsters. Twirling the guns in her hands, she leaps up onto a boulder and calls out to him.

“Can you get me to higher ground? We’ll cast a net.” She gestures a circle motion around the wanderers and he nods. Then she feels her body lift on its own. She swallows. It almost feels like Caleb himself is lifting her in his hands, supporting her in his warm embrace. She’s launched high above the wanderers. She feels him use his evol to force the wanderers closer together, caging them in an invisible dome. Its effects are amplified through her resonance.

Once again, she feels his energy surge through her. It’s so addicting, so utterly overwhelming and insatiable. Her brows furrow, almost too exhausted to take it in fully. Her mind is running on dregs, and so is his. She can feel it in the way his evol slips sometimes, like if she moves too much she’ll fall. And in the way the wanderers are able to push against their cage. She can feel the dome walls almost crack at the seams, slide away and reveal an opening for the monsters to escape with. 

She grits her teeth, straining her arms out as she focuses her own energy on the fragile dome. And for a second, just a split second, she assumes control. Feels the power shift over to her as she harnesses his evol entirely. Then the dome breaks and she’s sent plummeting to the floor. 

Her mind falters as she yelps. Now, she’s seeing triple. She can barely stand up and the wanderers are charging at her. This snaps Caleb almost completely out of his exhaustion, and he throws out a hand, slamming the wanderers into the ground. It’s like his evol has returned to its full strength. Ferocious and unyielding. He lifts her to her feet and drapes her arm over his shoulders. 

“Are you okay?” His eyes are rounded and his pupils are blown as he scans her body. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I lost focus for a second.”

Her breaths are slow and heavy, but she turns her head to meet his gaze. Her brows furrow. Had he really not felt her presence, her energy in him? Fair enough, it had only been for a split second, but was he really that unfocused that he hadn’t noticed her take control? Like she had spun the wheel from under his nose. She clenched her eyes. Maybe it was her that was overthinking. Had she really felt it? No, there was no doubt in her mind. She had harnessed his evol in that instant. 

Caleb slams a closed fist in the air, recalling the electronic screen. He jabs at it shakily to halt the simulation and the wanderers glitch out of existence. The whirring of the aircon halts, and instead, warmth floods the room. The arena returns to its default set up and the lights at the entrance go green. 

An electronic voice sounds over the room. “Deepspace Trial Exited. Practice makes perfect.”

When they get home, Caleb insists she go shower while he busies himself in the kitchen. It’s a feat in itself that she manages to come back in one piece having maneuvered with half shut eyes. Caleb’s got his back to her while he hunches over a cutting board, his biceps flexing with each slice. He’s got two pots over the stove, the overhead lights illuminating the subtle accumulation of sweat on his skin. As she pauses at the door, she cocks her head to the side, watching him intently. His sleeves are loosely rolled up his forearm, and the fabric is sliding down with each thrust of his hand wielding the knife. She watches as the rolled fabric pushes itself back up to his elbow, then as the lid of the steamer beside him hovers into the air. A rush of steam engulfs the stove before the lid is placed back down. She chews on her lip for a second before moving towards him.  

“Need any help?”

She leans against the counter, peering up at him with a smile. He shoots one back at her, the rhythmic chopping of the knife unfaltering. 

“That was quick. Are you sure you washed properly?” 

She rolls her eyes, not answering him. Instead, she takes his sleeve in her hands and methodically rolls the fabric over itself into neat rectangles. Once the sleeve is tightly over his elbow, she lets her fingers trace over his arm before dropping down. He’s looking at her downcast gaze, hidden beneath her eyelashes. When she moves around him to do the other sleeve, his chopping ceases abruptly. Her chin is almost resting against his bicep as she works on the sleeve. She can feel his warm breath on the shell of her ear; it’s easy, almost natural even, for her to sync her own breathing to his. 

In her determination to roll his sleeves, a strand of hair falls across her eyes. Her irritation is fleeting though, as she feels it lift carefully from her face and hook behind her ear. She looks up to find him staring down at her. And she feels that all too familiar stir in her stomach.

Her brows furrow slightly as she leans into the sensation. The use of his evol so tenderly, so gently to lift her lock of hair triggers a spike in the surrounding energy fluctuations. She’s always able to feel it; sense that low, subtle buzz whenever he manipulates gravity around her. Feel the murmur of energy as it warbles and tingles against her flesh. But now, it’s louder, heavier on her senses, amplified by her sudden interest in it. 

And once again, it ends all too quickly. The buzzing stops and her hair is secured around her ear. He cocks a brow at her before resuming his hand on the knife. 

“You can help me by doing the eggs.”

Pulled out of her thoughts, she picks up one of the eggs on the bench and cracks it into a bowl.

“What are you making?”

“Steamed salmon and eggs. One of your favourites, remember?”

She whisks the eggs with the chopsticks absentmindedly. “I haven’t eaten it in so long. I remember Gran forcing you to make it at least once a fortnight.”

“Oh, she was so keen on omega-3,” Caleb laughs. He unwraps the salmon from the deli paper and smooths his hand over the orange flesh. Her stirring slows as she watches him. The way his fingers push into it before he tweezes out the bones. His gaze flickers to hers and he smiles. “Well, why didn’t you try making it? No one makes it better than me, huh?” He nudges her playfully.

“Yeah, okay.” She rolls her eyes. “Think what you want. I just don’t like descaling the salmon and picking out the bones.”

“Mhm.” 

“I’m done with the eggs. Move over.” She brushes past him, swiping up an empty cup and opening the lid of the steamer.

“Careful! It’s hot.”

The lid pulls away from her gasp, hovering in the air and blocking the steam from hitting her face. Then she feels the cup unwind from her grasp. She watches as it scoops up the boiling water and pours it into her egg bowl.

Her hands lower to her sides. “I could’ve done that myself.” Not looking at him, she returns to her side of the counter and mixes the water into the egg. It froths up, threatening to spill over the sides. 

“Why won’t you let me do nice things for you?” He pouts. She doesn’t answer at first, eyes trained on the task at hand. When her hands grow tired of whisking she leaves to open the pantry door, grabbing out a few seasonings. As she settles them on the counter carefully she notices his eyes fixed on her and looks away. 

“How’d you…” She starts before falling back into silence. Words play at the tip of her tongue awkwardly. Fiddling with the seasonings, she arranges them into a neat line then shuffles them until they’re not. Then she cranes her neck to look up at him, lips parted. “I mean, is it easy to do these types of things with your evol? It looks so natural when you use it.”

Caleb blinks. “My evol?” His confusion dissolves into laughter. “You mean the thing I’ve had twenty-five years to hone and master?”

She looks down at her open palms, stretching her fingers as far as they would go. Her evol is powerful, undoubtedly. But it’s so intangible. Hidden in a way that demands she rely on other evolvers. 

She remembers when she first learnt the classing of her evol: anhausen. A force to resonate with and propel others. 

“Everything in this world has a unique, unmatchable frequency. That’s why each life is isolated.

But your Evol allows you to change your frequency. You can resonate with others.

If you open your heart, you can establish a connection.”

Caleb puts down the tweezers and wraps his hand around hers, pulling it against his chest. 

“Your evol is so special. I mean, who’s saved me a bunch of times during orbit trials?” He nudges her again and she shakes her head with a smile. “Maybe we don’t understand it fully right now. If you’re worried about it, don’t be. There are things my evol can’t do.” He gestures down to his hand still prodding at the fish. “I can’t debone salmon with it.” His words coax a laugh out of her and she nods in acknowledgement. 

“Yeah, I know.” She pulls her hands out of his grasp and holds her index fingers out in front of her like a conductor. There’s no point dwelling on what she can’t figure out right now. “Then why don’t you share your evol with me? Let me feel what it’s like to be you.”

“Oh, I see.” The corners of his eyes crinkle up as he laughs. “And what are you planning to do with this new evol of yours?”

She hums for a second, chewing on her lip. “I think the eggs need some white pepper.” She twirls her finger in the air and the white pepper floats into the air, maneuvering gently over the bowl. 

“And how much are you gonna put in?”

“Just a bit!” She moves her finger in a tapping motion, like patting the bottom of the container to release the seasoning. With each movement, the pepper shakes until her finger stops. 

“Wow, you already have such precise control. You’re so skilled and talented-”

“Okay, shut up. Next is a bit of chicken powder.” She does the same movement, shaking in about two teaspoons of it before setting it down. Her eyes crinkle proudly as she moves her finger in a circle motion. The chopsticks lift into the air and begin whisking the mixture together. Once it’s done, she moves both her hands in a scooping motion and the entire bowl rises. She gives an approving nod, giggling. 

“Ready to steam,” she says. Again, she moves around Caleb and watches as the steamer’s lid and the egg bowl engage in an intricate dance within the air. Despite the theatrics, the egg doesn’t splash up the sides. 

At the end of their dance, the bowl lowers into the steamer and the lid is placed back on top. When she looks back, the salmon is already placed neatly in a dish, submerged in sauce. Last she had seen, the salmon was still being deboned and the sauce hadn’t been made yet. She looks up at him with a frown and they stare at each other in silence. 

“...”

“Wow, how did the salmon get there? I didn’t know you could multitask-”

“Oh my God.” 

Infuriating, she almost mumbles under her breath. 

“It’s okay, baby. We’ve still got the ginger and scallions to put on top as well.” He gives her a guilty smile before gesturing to the cut vegetables. She remembers how decorative Caleb used to be when plating up dishes. Be it intricate floral garnishes or complex layering, his food was always so beautiful to look at. 

She taps at her chin. Maybe an alternating pattern of ginger slices and slivered scallions will look nice. And she wonders how well Caleb will be able to follow along. Lifting a finger, she points vaguely at the sliced vegetables and points to the salmon. A slice of ginger floats over and rests on the fish. 

“You know, this kind of reminds me of ratatouille.”

Caleb laughs. “Awh, come on.” As she gestures for another piece, both piles rise and hover over the dish. She throws her fingers out dramatically as the vegetables scatter over the dish. With each addition, her brow creases and her lips curl up. It’s no pattern, that’s for sure. But she sees the beginning of letters being spelled. 

‘I…’

‘L…O…V…E’

Her eyes crinkle. Then as the last slices of vegetable fall into their designated space, so scoffs.

‘CALEB’

She shakes her head. “No no no, I think my evol is waning.” 

Caleb flicks her forehead. “No, I don’t think so, pips. If I hadn’t just witnessed it, I’d say you were confessing to me through your evol.”

God, she has to find a way to shut this man up. She hooks her arm around his neck, pulling him down against her before pressing her lips against his.

“You’re such an idiot,” she mumbles against him, a smile breaking loose on both of their lips. He maneuvers her with his elbows, pressing her gently against the sink as he washes his hands behind her. All the while, her lips are fervent against his, hands cupping his jaw as he leans roughly into her. He fumbles for the towel, throwing it messily between his hands. Once his hands are dry, they come to rest firmly on her waist, smoothing down the fabric of her camisole. He’s the first to break the kiss, coming up for air with open-mouthed pants. Her own lips are pink and swollen, glistening with a thin sheen of saliva. She swallows slowly as she looks up at him, taking him in. He’s so close to her. So large compared to her frame, caging her against the counter. 

“Are you still interested in my evol?” His lips ghost her jaw but his eyes are fixed on the strap of her camisole. She can feel his breath against her lips. Slow with each inhale and exhale. Then she feels that buzz that she’s grown to know all too well. Feels the hum of its frequency push and pull her with its melodic familiarity. His evol pulls the strap of her top down to her arm.

“Still interested in the things I can do?” He leans down and kisses the flesh, tracing his way to the loose strap. As her hands come to tug at the collar of his shirt they’re suddenly seized mid-air, constrained and forced behind her back.

“Caleb…” Her voice is shrill and airy. Slowly, she feels its force tilt her jaw up. Her eyes are wide, rounded at the corners. 

“Don’t move. Or are you also interested in testing the limits of this evol?” Despite his warning she writhes in its hold. But it’s like trying to swim through quick sand. The pressure against her arms is firm; not painful, but unmistakably profound and unyielding.

She shakes her head. “But I wanna touch you.” At that he feigns a pout, leaving small kisses down the juncture of her neck. 

“Go on, touch me then,” he teases, brows knitted as he laughs at her. “Try.”

She struggles in her binds, wanting so desperately to lean into his touch. She can wiggle her fingers, but there’s no getting out of her constraints. 

“Looks like you’re losing control of your evol. Not so clever after all, are you?”

She grits her teeth, using her limited mobility to rub her legs together. The glare on her face is piercing and he almost doubles over in laughter when his gaze returns to her. 

“Baby, what is it?”

She huffs. “I’m thinking about how I’d use my evol to smack you across the face. Have you on the ground in two seconds flat-” Suddenly her head is wrenched back, his evol tugging roughly on her hair. The thin skin of her neck lays completely exposed to him, throbbing with each shallow breath. Her words are all but seized from her, mouth running dry in shock. 

“You’re so bold for someone that’s completely in my care.”

Her eyes strain to meet his in her position, and she debates whether or not offering a smile will appease him.

“I thought you said you wanted to do nice things for me.” His laugh is gentle compared to the cruelty of his evol. 

“Baby, I am being nice.” Tracing the edge of her jaw, he closes in on her, nudging her thighs apart with his knee. Taking another step closer, he presses his thigh against her core, towering over her and indulging in all the little gasps he manages to draw out of her. He takes on a rhythmic motion, rocking into her. 

“Caleb, I swear…” He shushes her, biting at the shell of her ear. She shivers into his touch. Once he was over his little bit, she was going to show him. Get him down on his knees and repenting for the way he was using his evol against her like this.

He whispers into her ear. “Baby, I’m so pent up. You had me working like a dog today. Don’t I get some sort of reward?”

She doesn’t say anything. Can’t even move her head to the side and bite at his smug smile. “Hmm?” he presses, angling his face down at her. He thumbs at her bottom lip, dragging the flesh down slightly and letting it spring back in place. 

“Had me fighting in a goddamn tundra.” The glint in eyes is cruel as his lips curl. “Had me put on a show for dinner…”

“Surely your evol is depleted by now, with the way you’re complaining, wouldn’t you think?” she bites back. Her body is arched painfully further, elbows suspended above the counter. The edge of the granite digs into her hip bones. A whimper escapes her lips, and her eyes shake as he leans down over her. His face is so close to hers, his breath hot against her cheek. 

She feels that familiar ache at her core. A terrible mix of want and excitement as she submerges herself in the frequency of his evol. The gentle drumming of energy pulses holding her captive, entangling itself fully against her own dwindling power. She’s depleted from training. Yet, he’s still got energy to spare. 

“Tell me to stop,” he rasps, almost biting into her cheek.

She shakes her head. “I don’t want you to stop.” She mirrors his sick smirk, almost baring her teeth at him. “You say you deserve a reward. Come take it.”

She watches as his eyes almost haze. He doesn’t say anything as he steps away from her before gripping her upper arm tightly.

A sudden pit opens in her stomach and she feels the surge in energy around her first before he spins her roughly and forces her against the counter again. The frenzied spikes of energy fluctuations engulf her senses, and she almost moans, letting herself drown in the overwhelming pressure. This feels intangible. Like she’s living in his evol whilst simultaneously being puppeteered by it. She whines as her shorts are pulled off her, the hem of her shirt riding up over the curve of her breasts.

She feels him grope her ass as he presses his weight against her. She almost falls on her face against the granite before being supported by his evol. Her hands are still tightly bound behind her back. 

Caleb presses two fingers against her panty-clad cunt, stroking over the wet fabric before pushing it in slowly. 

“Look at that, don’t even need to prep you.”

She pants, unable to writhe against the sensation. “Keep teasing me and find out what happens.”

Cocking his head, he laughs down at her rigid form. He retreacts his fingers briefly, only to pull the fabric and let it snap back harshly against her cunt. And she jolts with what limited mobility she’s afforded. 

“Go on,” he whispers. Then he slaps her ass harshly, the echo resounding throughout the kitchen. Heat burns at her cheek as she hangs her head low, almost wanting to press her forehead against the cool counter, but his evol doesn’t allow it. Pulling her panties to the side, he rubs the head of his cock against her swollen cunt, collecting the sticky leakage and smoothing it over his length. She hears him groan before returning to his slow, laboured pants. “I’m waiting.”

“That makes two of us,” she forces out, suppressing even the notion of a moan through clenched teeth.

“Oh you don’t know when to stop, do you?” Gripping his cock and bracing her ass with the other, he pushes in, filling her roughly. She can’t even lurch forward. Can only gape as a broken whine spills past her lips. His thrusts are initially shallow, hand smoothing over the small of her back as he waits for her to settle into the feeling.

“Caleb,” she moans. She wiggles her fingers at him, desperately pleading for him to hold her hand. And she hears him laugh at her softly, before he intertwines their fingers. 

“You okay, baby?”

She nods, eyes clenched shut as she focuses on drawing in air. “I’m okay. You can go faster.”

She feels him lean down against her, moulding his body over hers. The shift in position causes him to bottom out, kissing her cervix. Her walls are fluttering around his cock, spasming and contracting with each shaky breath. She feels so fucking full. Consumed entirely by his body and evol. 

He kisses the curl of her ear. “Okay, baby.”

He sets a brutal pace, each thrust knocking her into the invisible boundary of his evol. Fuck, she’s going delirious, letting her mind be swallowed by his scent. His thrusts are so rough as he moans into her ear, hands slipping from their grip at her waist. They wander over her stomach, latching onto every curve, kneading the flesh roughly as he ruts into her. Finally, they settle on her breasts, pinching the nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Fuck, Caleb!” She gasps out. Her chest is a flushed rose, sweat glistening as her body is drilled past exhaustion. Whatever energy she regained from her shower is long gone. 

His other hand is still tightly locked with hers, her own knuckles bruising her back. It’s almost laughable how quickly her mind dissolves into nothing. He’s barely settled on a steady rhythm and she’s already fucked dumb. 

She arches her back into him, moaning out his name.

“Please, please,” she whines, laboured breaths echoing out against the counter. “I’m so tired.”

“You’re tired? Baby, I’m doing all the work.”

She rolls her eyes, squeezing his hand in retaliation. He responds with a murmur of ‘ouch, baby’ before returning to his ministrations concerning the aching throb of his cock being still for too long. 

“Come on, baby. Push back into me.”

“Mmm, can’t,” she whines, slumping forward as far as she was allowed. 

“You can’t?” he echoes. “Are you asking for my help?” He doesn’t give her the chance to answer before a force yanks at her hips, reeling her body back to meet his thrusts. 

“Mmph! Oh my fucking God.” Her mouth is agape as her body is maneuvered so indecently. The slap of her ass meeting his pelvis casts a hue of red over her cheeks. He’s pushing so relentlessly into her, fucking her so brazenly in their kitchen. 

He releases his hold on her hand, no longer binding her wrists to her back. Once she feels the pressure alleviate, they scramble out in front of her, bracing against the counter.  

“Where are you trying to go?”

She shakes her head through her moans, fingers gripping uselessly at the flat counter. She can’t stop her hips, can’t pull away from his demanding thrusts. And each breach of his cock is pushing her closer, and closer to the edge. 

“Fuck, Caleb, it’s too much.” She thinks about potentially coming all over the kitchen floor. How she knows that when she releases, it’s going to be messy. Feels in the angle that he’s bruising her walls that she’s going to fucking squirt. The tips of her ears are hot ember.

Suddenly her hair curls around a bodiless force before being yanked. Her head is jerked back until her nape rests against his shoulder. He’s breathing down over her cheek, groaning so fucking nastily into the air above her as he works his cock into her. She can feel how sticky her cunt is, how each time his hips leave hers, strings of their mixed precum strains between them. Can hear the foul squelch of his cock fucking her sloppy cunt. All of this, combined with the pleasurable pressure of his evol restraining her body. Its energy so fucking insatiable that she can’t think of a better use for it other than keeping her still while he uses her. 

“Mmph, fuck fuck fuck.” She clenches so tightly around him that he lurches forward, crushing her with his weight. His cock slams against her cervix and she falls apart. She feels her warm release gush out of her cunt, the sheer force of her orgasm pushing his cock out. 

“Fuck, you’re so messy, baby.” Yet he only drives his cock back into her, the sudden halt of pressure and friction threatening to knock him out. “Come on, just a little more.” 

The steamers cry out beside them, whistling as a stream of steam shoots towards the extractor. It’s like a sharp hook back to reality, clearing the fog from out of her mind. 

“Caleb, you’re gonna over steam the eggs. You know I hate when they get all rubbery.”

“You’re worried about the eggs?”

Fucking her into overstimulation, he makes her watch as bowls and plates swirl and woosh before her. The lids of the steamers rise, unveiling the salmon and egg and engulfing them in its rich scent. The cutlery draw  opens beside them and spoons and chopsticks follow each other out. All the while, his hips are still pushing into her spasming cunt. But he’s wearing a smile, laughing through his guttural moans as he feels the pressure almost consume him. There’s something about using his evol on so many things at once that awakens something in both of their stomachs. 

“Baby, fuck.” 

Her body is mush as she feels him slow, returning to shallow thrusts as his come spills into her. 

She lets him ride it out. Meanwhile, the dishes plate themselves beautifully in front of them. 

“Okay, okay. Stop showing off. Fuuck.” She rolls over on the counter, splaying out against the cool surface. Her cunt is throbbing, legs wobbly as she tries to hold herself up. Caleb is bent over her, eyes crinkled up in his laughter. Their breaths mingle at their proximity before he presses a fervent kiss along her jaw. 

Then all at once, she’s no longer suspended by that delicious pressure. He’s holding her up in his warm, shaky hands, all signs of his evol finally put to rest. 

“I’m sorry, baby. Are you okay?”

She grips onto his shoulder for leverage, planting a kiss at the corner of his mouth. “I am so getting you back for that.”

He scoffs. “You enjoyed that, no?”

She drags their plates towards them, deciding it’s best to eat while it’s hot and fresh. Even if they’re both covered in sweat and cum. 

“Doesn’t matter if I enjoyed it. I’m pretty sure there are rules against such unlawful use of one’s evol.” Before he can argue, she presses a spoonful of rice, salmon, and egg at his lips and he accepts. She watches him chew and swallow.

“Rate my cooking?”

Now he can scoff at her. “Ten out of ten, baby.”

The rest of the night continues with playful bickering as they clean each other up and settle in bed. Once they hit the mattress, it’s lights out almost immediately. But not before she conjures something diabolical in her mind. A sinister plan for the day to come, using all that she’s learnt from today. 

Come morning, she’s up before Caleb. Stretching out with the night’s rejuvenation of her body. 

“Come on, baby, time for our morning run,” she says, as he’s spooning his breakfast into his mouth. He quirks a brow at her.

“You’re gonna join me?” She almost fails to hide her grimace before nodding. 

“Of course.”

She did not join him for his run. In fact, she only walked, cheering him on as he lapped her for the fifth time.

“Baby, think you can do a few Deepspace Trials with me? I’ve got a room booked. You know how fast they fill up.”

He doesn’t hesitate, wiping the sweat off his brow and taking the ice-cold water bottle she had so graciously filled up for him.

“You wanna go again? You’re determined.” Yeah, about that.

When they find themselves outside the familiar arena, she lays her hunter firearms down in the weaponry room, before perusing the shelves. He watches her, cocking his head to the side as her fingers brush along a peculiar weapon. 

“You’re going to use a sniper?”

She looks back at him, shrugging. “Yeah. I’m not great at ranged attacks. It’s important that I’m versatile when it comes to weapons.” Convincing, enough. 

“...Okay.” He pauses for a second, twirling his own firearms in his hands.Then he parts his lips.  “Well, why don’t we go to a shooting range? That’d be better if you wanna improve your aim.”

She shakes her head, giving a curt, “no.” She picks up the sniper and balances it in her hands. It weighs a fucking tonne. “In real situations, wanderers aren’t going to be standing perfectly still for me.” She watches as his face scrunches up slightly before he gives in.

“Yeah, okay.”

As they make their way into the arena, the operating screen flies down towards her. She scans her ID and it beeps with approval. 

“Welcome back!” Its robotic voice sounds out. “Please select your desired training conditions.”

She barely looks at the icons that she’s pressing, scrolling right to the end and selecting whichever SSR, boss-class, level eighty-five wanderer comes up first. The one she selects is classified as a ‘knave’, using melee as its primary type of attack. It also wields an axe the size of its body. She almost snorts at the cruelty of her impending plan. This wanderer is better known as ‘beyblade’ at the Hunters Association, with the way it frequently uses an uninterruptible, spinning attack to defeat Hunters. Pain in her ass. But good for the situation, she justified. 

Scrolling down to the environment section, she holds back another laugh as her fingers travel to a very specific biome: Tundra. 

Set weather conditions to extreme, check. 

She glances at Caleb, thankful he was too busy admiring the interior of the arena. 

“Warning! Your chosen weapon of…sniper…is not recommended gi-” She shushes the robotic warning, closing it and sending the screen away. Yeah, no shit.

The lights dim and the familiar drone of the vents start to burr to life. 

“Ready?” Caleb probes in the darkness.

“Always,” she answers back.

When the lights come on again, the ground is an uneven mess of coarse rock and snow. The vents mimic the sound of harsh winds, and she feels their effect immediately as goosebumps rise along her arms. The arena is boundless. A cold, dry, and deathly expanse of nothingness. 

“Did you pick a fucking tundra again?!”

Then the wanderer spawns, its axe soaring far above its head as it hovers in the air.

“And you picked that fucking wanderer?!”

Not even she has time to laugh in the given situation, immediately turning on her heel. She sees a rise in the terrain, and gestures to it. 

“I’m gonna go for higher ground.” Hiking her sniper up on her shoulder, she runs. It’s only been a few seconds but she’s already out of breath. The air is so cold and dry; her chest feels like it’s caving in on itself. Throwing her equipment down, she tries to steady the sniper on the coarse dirt. She squints as she peers into the scope, moving her rifle until it aligns with the wanderer. She repositions. Then repositions again, trying to find any weak points in the monster’s hardened exterior. Any cracks within its armour.

“Got a clear shot?” Caleb’s voice echoes out, amplified by her Hunter’s watch. Leaning her head away from the scope, she watches as he runs around the wanderer, intermittently suspending himself in the air as he fires round after round. She can see his hot breath puff out against the cold, but he doesn’t seem deterred, pressing on. 

Looking back through the scope, she positions the rifle before pulling the trigger. She hits it square in the shoulder, knocking it back a step. It’s not super effective, but it gives Caleb the upper hand with his next attack. 

They continue like this: her staying calm and firing strategic shots while Caleb tires himself at the front line. Almost there, she thinks. That humming in her stomach when she’s close to resonating, so tantalising as it flares at the corners and sets her nerves alight. When the last barrier of the wanderer’s protocore shield is broken, she hikes the rifle back over her shoulder before sliding down the terrain to Caleb’s level. He looks over his shoulder at her, understanding instantly what’s to come. They nod at each other.

Golden rays wrap around her like silk, emerging from her palms and chest. She feels his evol simmer and crackle around her before lifting them both in the air, launching them to spiral around each other in an intricate dance that she so loves. She takes a deep breath, opening her heart entirely to the sensation. His evol is so much weaker than it was yesterday, thanks to her tiring him out. There would have been no way she’d be able to even think of manipulating it if he was at full power. In the darkness of her clenched eyes, she can almost see the energy fluctuations of his evol mixing with her. A vibrant blue, grey, and orange bleeding into her gold hues. Then, as she shifts her arms, she sees the hues bend to her will and she surges higher into the air. 

“Watch out!”

Caleb’s voice rips her from the void, forcing her back into her body. She cries out. No! But there’s no time to scream, because the wanderer’s axe is coming straight for her. She rotates the sniper over her shoulder, slinging it around and aiming the barrel in front of her. There’s no time to look into the scope, the shot’s going to make it anyway. She pulls the trigger and the recoil sends her flying back. Caleb’s evol cushions the blow, letting her drift slowly to the ground.

“Dammit!” she curses, almost throwing the rifle to the side. She was so close, so close to wielding his evol. Really understanding the ripples and spikes in its energy waves and manipulating it. 

“Again,” she mutters, wiping the sweat off her upper lip.

“Are you crazy?!” Caleb screams. He takes a moment while the wanderer is down to stalk towards her. “What’s up with you today? You’re being so reckless. Choosing an unsuitable weapon--which,” he points his finger at her, “you can’t even use.”

She scoffs but he doesn’t let her interrupt.

“Choosing an SSR class wanderer. And setting the biome to the fucking tundra!” She only glares back at him, swinging her rifle back into position. The wanderer’s protocore shields are recovering slowly. They have to defeat it now.

“Come on. You can whinge afterwards. We have to go again. I have a good feeling.” Caleb rolls his eyes but follows her nonetheless, closing in on the weakened wanderer. 

“Oh, you have a good feeling,” he mocks. “Well that changes everything.”

She can still feel the hum of her resonance inside her. It hasn’t dissipated yet. She gives him a nod and he concedes. While they have their fair share of bickering, at least this is one thing that they have a mutual understanding for. They are never more powerful than when they’re together. 

This time, when she’s lifted into the air, her mind immediately sees the energy fluctuations. She splays her hands out over them, feels the way they burn at her hand like live wires. Her brows furrow intently. She can do this. Feel it on the edge of her fingertips. Then, with a decisive blow, she manipulates the strings of their combined energy, feels it wrap around her wrists like a shackle. Was this the weight he bore? 

Caleb immediately meets her eyes, bewildered as he feels his power shift to her. It is inexplicable and daunting. 

Pushing her arms out around her, she surges through the sky, rings of blue and gold and orange supporting her flight. She’s harnessing his evol, amplifying it to terriying heights as she manipulates the environment around them. She hovers her hands over the wanderer and a crushing weight flattens it into the ground, sending clouds of smoke and rubble up around them. Caleb is on the floor, arm over his face as waves away the smoke. She frowns. He can’t fly? Taking control of his energy has nullified his?

She casts her hand again towards him, and pulls him into the air beside her. He looks unsteady. Almost like her when she was lifted for the first time. Is this really happening?

“Woah…” He breathes out shakily, arms out carefully to balance himself. “...What are you trying to do?” He looks so vulnerable. So small and scared, wrapped in an evol that he has no control over.

She doesn’t know what to say, looking down at her open palms. Before she can reply, the robotic voice sounds out over the arena.

“Deepspace Trial completed. Congratulations.”

She looks up. Then below them at the fading tundra. As she slowly lowers them to the ground, her lips curl up into a smile. Caleb’s pupils are still blown as he stares at her, arms still out like he might topple over.

“That was unbelievable.” Her hands are shaking as she stares down at them. “I wanna go again.”

Caleb’s quick to interject. “Nahhh. I think you’ve had enough training for today.” He pats her shoulder gently before bringing her into a hesitant hug. 

The drive home is mostly silent. Caleb’s at a loss for words and she’s still too shocked to know what to make of it. When they get home, it’s her who insists he be the one to shower first. She had to nearly run into the ground before she was able to manipulate his evol like that. 

Once she’s out of the shower, she drops her knees against the bed. Caleb’s sitting up against the headboard, staring into space. He’s shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants. When he notices her, he parts his lips, then shuts them again. She can sense his unease, furrowing her brows at him. 

“How did you…” he begins. He looks down at his open palms in his lap. “I mean…”

She pushes his hands away, crawling on the mattress and swinging her legs over his so that she’s sitting on his lap. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you during training.” She feels the guilt seep into her chest at his low expression. It was always him protecting her. But this is something new entirely. She brushes her fingers along his cheek reassuringly. “It’s like you said yesterday. There’s still a lot about my evol that we don’t understand.”

He looks up at her, shaking his head. “Yeah. No, I’m sorry. I should be celebrating you. I just can’t help feeling like…”

Craning her neck, she leans down and kisses him, the impending words dissipating from his mind. He kisses her back, hands smoothing over her thighs. 

“Fuck,” he groans, clenching his eyes shut.

She leans back. “Are you too tired? We don’t have to-”

“I’m not tired.” He pulls her back in for a kiss. “Never too tired for this.” His lips work wonders against hers, trailing down to leave wet kisses over her neck. She moans into him, writhing closer so that she’s sitting over his cock. Her hands massage their way to his scalp, pulling at his hair gently. He groans before it dissolves into laughter.

“I can’t believe you’ve still got the energy. Last night wasn’t enough for you?” She jerks back, out of his hold, to send him a scowl. He ‘tch’s, pulling her back down into his embrace and kissing her nose. “Don’t scowl, baby.”

His hands mould against her hips, sliding up under the hem of her shirt. They’re warm against her and she melts into him. 

“There, baby, you look so much better when you’re smiling at me.” She rolls her eyes, leaning into touch as his hands follow the curvature of her breasts.

“I’m not smiling at you,” she mumbles. She braces a hand against his waist as he begins to knead the flesh gently, rubbing his thumb over her nipple and letting it wobble back in place. Her hips begin to grind down against him, small rocks back and forth as their breaths mingle together. His eyes are half lidded as they bore in hers. 

“Caleb,” she sighs, breaths becoming laboured. He lifts her shirt up, pulling over her head and discarding it on the floor. His lips press against the swell of her breast. Then she inhales sharply as she feels the gentle clasp of his teeth against her. All the while, his hands return to her waist, guiding her against him faster.

“Yeah, keep going, baby.”

She leans down towards him, playing with his hair to keep herself grounded. 

“Hah, feels good.” She whimpers softly.

He grins up at her, that smug smile making its way across his lip.

“Want me to fuck you dumb again, yeah?” He bites into her harshly. “Have me running around all day, but you fold when my dick’s involved.” She audibly gasps, wriggling to get out of his iron hold to no avail. Even with one hand, his grip is unyielding, forcing her to continue grinding her swollen cunt against him. 

“Mmph, don’t,” she warns.

“Don’t what?” He bites down again at her breast before swirling his hot tongue over the wound. He bucks up into her roughly and she jolts, hands slamming on the headboard for balance. “Don’t bite you?” He licks another stripe over her breast. “Or are you telling me if we keep going you’re going to cum in your pants?”

Heat burns at her cheeks and she forcibly closes her eyes.

“Caleb, I swear…”

His arms wrap around her waist and she feels his weight shift before he rolls over, caging her beneath him. He towers over her menacingly, knees coming up to press at her core. Her legs are splayed wide open.

“Baby, you gotta finish your sentences. I can’t think for the both of us.”

Her brows crease, the heat on her cheeks turning into anger. Before he can pin her wrists against the pillow, she grabs his arm and pulls it against her chest.

“What are you doing?” he asks, amused. 

“Don’t you think you’re being too callous?” Despite her words, she wears a smile. And he only mirrors her expression. She can feel his energy sputtering, loose ends of anger flaring and threatening to set ablaze. He’s been like this ever since training, when she took his evol. Had him wobbling around like child in his own evol. “I don’t think you’re in any position to be teasing me right now.”

His smile breaks as laughter erupts on his face. Mean, mocking laughter as his eyes rake over her vulnerable state. 

“Then tell me what position I should be in, sweetheart. The way I see it, you’re lying there, soiling your panties, waiting for me to touch you-”

She doesn’t let him finish. Tightening her grip on his wrist, she resonates, engulfing them in a sea of golden flames. The flash only lasts for a second before he’s lurched forward, forced to slam his palm against the mattress and brace himself. She watches as shock creeps into his eyes, and try as he might to hide it, the tremor in his lips is undeniable. She lets go of his wrist, instead flicking her hand and flipping him over on his back. 

“Baby…” there’s a gentle shake to his voice. She ignores it, swinging her legs back over him and easing herself down over his crotch. 

His own evol, taken from him, pins his hips down. Restrains him as she grinds harshly on his cock. He chokes out a moan, pupils blown.

“Baby, what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” She quips. In the next second, his wrists are pinned on either side of his head. She uses the opportunity to drag her palms over his chest, chewing on her lips with the way her finger mould to every curve and divot of his muscles. She stays there, mesmerised. He never usually lets her admire him for this long. It’s always him worshipping her body. Him giving her attention. Swirling her finger around his nipple, she gives it a gentle pinch before grinning down at him. He’s not smiling anymore. 

“Oh, are you waiting for me to touch you?” Her gaze falls down to his cock and she pulls at the waistband of his pants. As she begins tugging the fabric down, she gives him a sneer. “You know, you give me so much shit when you’re teasing me. For what it’s worth, I better not find you fully hard under here.”

He groans at her touch, fighting against the invisible pressure holding him down to no avail.

His cock springs up and hits his stomach. It’s an angry red, throbbing, and leaking pre-cum down to its hilt. She scoffs.

“Fucking pervert.” 

She leans down over him, taking his cock into her hand and he groans. He wants so desperately to buck up into her but he can’t.

“Okay, baby, I get it.”

She peers at him as her mouth hovers over his tip. Pursing her lips, she spits onto it and lets it dribble down until its caught by her hand. He rolls his eyes back at the sight, fighting through clenched teeth. 

“What’s there to get?”

“Awh fuck, baby. I get it. I won’t tease you anymore. I’ll be nice. Just, please…”

She feels something sinister bubble in her stomach when she hears him say the word ‘please’. But she doesn’t shy away from it. Stroking her hand along his cock slowly, she narrows her eyes.

“Say that again.”

He blinks at her through his convulsions. “I won’t tease you--”

“Not that,” she interrupts him, squeezing his cock. He groans, throwing his head further back into the pillows. “That last part. I want to hear it again.”

“Please,” he says. Bingo. He grits his teeth, forcing the words out. “Please, please, please.”

She increases her pace, wrapping a second hand around it. Her thumb teases his tip, ghosting the slit with the gentlest of pressures. She cocks her head to the side as she watches him twitch and moan. Caleb sucks in a deep breath.

“Baby, please. I’ve agreed to not tease you. You won’t so much as afford me the same courtesy?”

She stops at that. Maybe he’s right. Maybe she’s being too cruel. Or not. 

She rises to her knees, tugging her shorts down until she’s only in her panties. His gaze follows her every move, and despite him being restrained, she doesn’t feel all that safe under his scrutiny. 

“Are you enjoying this?” she probes, throwing her arms out. She watches amused as the comforter pulls out from beneath him and folds itself neatly before settling to the side. Then as an extra pillow wriggles its way beneath his head. 

His lips are curled up into a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“What do you wanna hear, baby?”

She frowns at that. “You’re ruining my fun.”

She brings over a third pillow resting on a chair, slamming her palms together. The cushion contorts before its contents explode, sending a thousand feathers into the air. She laughs whole heartedly, eyes crinkling at the corners. But the feathers don’t drift towards the ground. They dance and twirl in her delight, encasing them in a dream-like scene. His gaze never leaves her, and he can no longer fight the smile tugging at his lips. Because she looks so beautiful like this. 

When she finally lets the feathers fall to the floor she looks down at her panty-clad body. The force of his evol pulling it down at her own will feels almost ticklish. She giggles, kicking her legs as she feels the fabric pull off her and dangle in front of them. When she returns over him, she thumbs at his bottom lip, pulling the flesh down gently.

“Open.”

His breath hitches as he looks between her and the panties. “Baby, don’t you think you’re having too much fun?”

She ignores him. “Wider.” They stare at each other for a few seconds. He can feel heat churn at the pit of his stomach, and he’s afraid to indulge it. “Come on,” she probes.

He swallows before opening his mouth fully, tilting his head back. The panties push into his mouth, and he trembles. 

“Good job, baby.” 

Swinging her leg back over him, she aligns his cock with her swollen cunt. She drags the tip along her sex, letting the sticky fluids collect and drip down the sides of him before prodding closer. She sinks down only a little at first, fucking herself shallowly. Then as her walls loosen, she sits down on him completely. He lurches forward, moaning into her panties. 

“Mmm,” he groans.

She can barely keep her composure as she begins to lift herself on top of him, taking his cock deep and slow. Letting her warm cunt swallow him with each messy and wet thrust. 

She settles between bouncing shyly on his throbbing cock and rocking gently against him. Let it nudge and prod at her most sensitive parts. Taking it entirely at her own pace. Bumping her clit against him with each slam back down onto him. 

As he looks up at her his eyes roll to the back of his head. He just wants to grab her. Reclaim his evol and show her truly what the bounds of his evol are. He lets out a grumble, his string of words jumbling into a muffled mess.

“What was that?”

He rolls his eyes, not bothering to try and speak again. But his head is yanked back suddenly, his evol tugging at his hair.

“Don’t roll your eyes.” She pulls the panties from his mouth and he sputters. “Now, what was that?”

“Baby, when I get my fucking hands on you--mmph!” 

She shoves the fabric back in. “You wanna try that again?” He’s quick to nod, breathing heavily through his nose. She waits a second before pulling the fabric out again.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you’re--MMPH!” 

She shakes her head dismissively, letting out a sigh. 

“You know, I’m getting a bit tired.” she brushes the hair out of her eyes before tapping at her chin exaggeratedly. “What was that thing you made me do yesterday?”

Suddenly his hips are yanked up and she gasps as his cock hits her cervix, leaning down to brace against his heaving chest. She tinkers with the amount of force, methodically pulling and pushing his hips into her. Using him to get off. 

He groans into the fabric, wrists writhing against the pillows. His eyes widen as he yells out through the fabric, grabbing her attention.

“You want me to take it out?” He nods frantically at her and she hesitates. “Will you be good?” He doesn’t stop nodding, brows knitting up. She gently pulls the soiled fabric out, holding it up like a threat. 

“Fuck, thank you. Thank you.” Without the muffle, his breaths are so heavy against her. “You feel so good.”

She gasps at his brazenness, sinking down harder on him. “Yeah?” she tries, searching his eyes.

“Yes, yes. Keep going. Keep going.” His words spur her on, and she clenches tightly around him, triggering a throaty moan. 

She wonders if he feels just as delirious as her. If the feeling of having his evol used so cruelly against him turns his stomach over in the same devious way it does to her. If he can recognise his own energy and just barely grasp it. Feel something so powerful and familiar, yet intangible, just like her. 

“Tell me you love it. Tell me you like me doing this to you.”

He whines, lips trembling in the stimulation. “Fuck, Fuck,” he sputters. “I love it. I love what you’re doing to me. I want you to use me like this. I--mmph oh fuck.” 

She moans out above him, vision starting to blur. He cock is leaking out into her, dribbling down the sides and dripping back onto his pelvis. The sheets are a fucking mess. And she doesn’t know how much longer she can last with the way his cock is bruising her walls. 

She commands him to go faster, the force pistoning his cock up into her.

“Fuck, I’m gonna-” she gasps, tears brimming at her waterline. She manipulates each and every thrust. Paving her path to orgasm so intricately. His pupils dilate as he watches her, consuming every little expression she makes. How she reacts to each thrust. How she controls his pace and all the little patterns of when his hips are forced into a frenzy, and when his hips are dragged slowly. All of it. 

“Mmph fuck!” Her release spills out of her and he can’t help but come as well. Her being the trigger to his pleasure. She lifts herself up and down on him shallowly as the rest of her cum splatters onto his thighs. She’s gasping above him, eyes watching the heave of his chest. The glisten of sweat down his neck and chest. The flush of his cheeks as gulps for air. She lets him calm down, waiting till their breathing plateaus out into even waves. 

He’s still inside her, plugging what remains of their mixed release in her aching walls. She brushes the wet hair off his forehead, leaning down to kiss him. He looks exhausted, eyes closed and chin tilted up. 

“Baby,” she coos, stroking his jaw. He cracks his eyes open, a smile curling at his lips. “You okay?”

“I’m okay,” he answers her evenly. His eyes flicker down to the mess at his hips. “You’re still using my evol,” he points out. 

“Oh right.” She swallows, pausing a second before she retracts the force pinning him down. “You’re not mad, right, baby?”

He shakes his head, a little too quickly. “No, I’m not mad, baby.”

She sighs as a gentle smile spreads across her face. She leans down and presses another kiss against his lips. Truly, she’s spent. Can barely support herself on top of him. Breathing out and focusing, she stifles her resonance, retracting claim over his evol and releasing him of his constraints. Barely a second passes before she’s launched into the mattress, thrown so roughly beneath him that the wind gets knocked out of her.

“Caleb!” She rasps. Then her eyes widen and a cry is torn from her lips as he slides right back into her. 

“Baby, what did I say?”

Tears breach her waterline as he fucks into her roughly, slamming against her already cum-painted walls and spilling it out onto the sheets. She can barely breathe, forcing her palms against his chest.

“That you weren’t mad!” She cries, trying to writhe away as he bullies her into the mattress.

“Silly girl,” he sneers. 

He cages her head between his forearms, breathing down on her as he sets a brutal pace. 

Caleb was a man who could indulge in her ploy for power under certain conditions. But having his evol, one of his only tethers to the world, severed and held just out of reach set fire to something that knew no bounds. She had dug her grave the second she decided to resonate. And surrendered the second she decided to not. And he’d spend all night reminding her.

an: wowie need me some resonance so i can take caleb to plough town

[astrcmoni]

℘ ࣪₊ bleeding blue ࣪₊ ㅤㅤ℘

MASTERLIST

synopsis: after destroying her hair, billie turns to you, her fiancé, in hopes of you being able to fix it.

genre: fluff

pairing: cosmetologist fem!reader x billie eilish

wc: 10.8k

warnings: slight cussing

authors note: i know y’all see how long this is, if there is any spelling mistakes or continuity errors ignore it, i was up for 2 days. enjoy x 💋

the hair salon is quiet now, the hum of blow dryers and chatter replaced by a peaceful stillness. the sunset pours through the large glass window, casting a golden haze over everything it touches. soft amber and pink rays stretch across the polished floors, catching on stray hair strands and scattering delicate reflections off the mirrors and the chrome edges of styling chairs. shadows of tall ferns and succulents perched on the counter sway gently, their movements dappled by the fading light. the air still carries the faint traces of shampoo and hairspray, mingling with the rich warmth of the evening, as if the room itself is exhaling, releasing the weight of the day into the tender embrace of the setting sun.

your last client had left over an hour ago, leaving you with just enough time to clean up and dream of how good your bed will feel once you finally sink into it. now, in the corner of the room, you’re sitting under the hooded dryer—not because you need it, but because it’s your favorite chair in your booth. its worn leather hugs your body, offering a secluded cocoon, perfect for resting after a long day of standing.

you lazily scroll through your phone, the cool screen contrasting with the slight ache in your hands. you tap open the messages app, clicking the second most recent contact—it pulls up your fiancé’s profile, her name sitting at the top in bold letters.

you: almost done, cleaning up and i’m omw home. 💗

a small smile tugs at your lips as you glance at the text, thumb hovering before tapping the blue arrow to send it. you’re about to switch over to instagram when the soft creak of the front door opening cuts through the silence.

your eyebrows knit together, your smile fading into a frown as confusion prickles at the edges of your mind. instinctively, your eyes flick toward the entrance, words already forming on your tongue, ready to tell whoever it is to leave and come back tomorrow.

but then, there she is.

billie stands in the doorway, framed by the last lingering rays of sunlight that sneak through the glass. she’s wearing her oversized tour zip-up, her name stitched neatly on the chest. the royal blue thread contrasts sharply with the heavy yellow fabric, the colors a loud declaration against the soft, muted tones of the salon. her thumb grazes her bottom lip, the tip of her nail caught lightly between her teeth as she crosses her ankles.

the lanyard of her car keys hangs outside the pocket of her sweats, a bold red and black that sways slightly as she shifts her weight. the key fob itself is tucked away neatly, hidden. her star beanie is tugged low over her head, barely peeking out beneath the hood of her sweatshirt, which is pulled up and cinched just enough to hide all of her hair.

“hey, baby,” she says, her voice syrupy, dripping with a softness that only she could manage. the corners of her lips press together in a tight, almost apologetic smile, but there’s a flicker of amusement there—a twitch of mischief that she just can’t seem to hide.

her wide, doe-like eyes dart toward you, then quickly away, like a child caught red-handed. guilt and playfulness swim together in her gaze, her cheeks tinged faintly pink. she bites her bottom lip, the expression teetering between sweet and sheepish, her fingers fidgeting at the hem of her hoodie as though it’ll keep her hands from giving her away.

it’s the kind of look that says: i know i messed up, but come on—you can’t really stay mad at me, can you?

you straighten in your seat, eyes narrowing as you take in her stance, her tone, her very presence in a place she knows she shouldn’t be after hours.

“what did you do?” you ask, your voice sharp with suspicion but softened by the ghost of a grin tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“okay, so please don’t be mad,” she says, stepping further inside, her voice carrying that sugary lilt she always uses when she knows she’s done something questionable. her fingers clasp loosely together at first, but then they start to fidget, her thumbs tracing uneven circles over each other—slow, deliberate, and trembling. the motion falters, sometimes smooth, other times jerky, betraying the nervous energy humming beneath her calm façade. with each rotation, her thumbs press a little harder, as if the movement alone could ground her spiraling thoughts. even when her hands shift positions, the circling doesn’t stop, the weight of her tension held in that small, silent gesture.

“billie,” you warn, your tone light but firm, enough to let her know you’re not in the mood for whatever nonsense she’s about to throw your way.

her feet shuffle as she moves quickly across the room, closing the gap between you with a hurried urgency. before you can say another word, she’s on her knees in front of you, her hands reaching to cradle your own. the cool press of her engagement ring brushes against your skin—a sharp but gentle reminder of the promises you’ve both made, the weight of forever between you.

“first of all, i love you,” she whispers, her voice careful, the words wrapped in precision as she tilts her head up to meet your gaze. her expression teeters on the edge of vulnerability, her wide blue eyes swimming with a confession she’s not quite ready to say aloud.

your eyes narrow as suspicion prickles up your spine. “billie.” the repetition of her name carries a sharper edge now, though it’s softened by the flicker of a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“and second…” her voice trails off as she reaches for her hood. slowly, she pulls it down, followed by the star-patterned beanie covering her head. when her hair finally comes into view, the mess of it hits you like a freight train.

your jaw drops. the usual cascade of silky brown strands is now a disaster—a patchy, uneven palette of brassy yellows, burnt orange streaks, and sections so dark they seem almost untouched. the back looks half-finished, with random tufts sticking out like stubborn weeds refusing to blend.

in shock, you reach out, your fingers lightly grazing her damp hair before cupping her jaw to turn her head from side to side. the light from the window catches the chaotic patches, making the disaster even more glaring. your brows knit together as disbelief bubbles out in a soft, incredulous laugh.

“billie. what the hell is this?” you finally manage, your tone caught between amusement and horror.

she winces, the sheepish grin on her face growing wider. “i tried to do it myself,” she admits, her voice a hurried tumble of words. before you can respond, she’s already jumping to defend herself. “it was a box dye, okay? it looked so easy, but it wasn’t. now it’s a hot ass mess. save me, please.” her hands clasp together, fingers intertwining as she looks up at you with a desperate, pleading expression.

you groan, the ache in your feet from the long day suddenly feeling heavier. “of course, you would try to dye your hair at home,” you mutter, leaning back in your chair. your eyes scan the spotless, freshly cleaned station you’d been so close to leaving behind.

“but billie, i just cleaned everything,” you complain, dragging the words out with a soft groan.

“i’ll buy you dinner,” she interrupts quickly, her lips curving into a hopeful smile.

your eyebrow arches, unimpressed. “you buy me dinner all the time. you’re gonna have to try harder than that.”

without missing a beat, she grabs your right hand—the one adorned with the diamond ring she gave you—and presses a kiss to your palm. the warmth of her lips lingers as she trails kisses upward, along your wrist, the sensation leaving a soft buzz in its wake.

“and dessert,” she murmurs, her lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your wrist before working their way up your arm. her kisses grow slower, more deliberate, each one sending shivers racing down your spine.

“i’ll get you anything you want,” she whispers as her mouth grazes the curve of your neck, her words melting into the skin there.

your resolve wavers, her lips trailing a path of heat along the sweet spot of your neck until she finally stops, pulling back just enough to hover inches from your face. her thumb rubs soothing circles along the back of your hand, her eyes wide and shimmering as they lock onto yours. “baby, just please help me fix this,” she pleads, her voice soft and breathless.

you sigh, your gaze trailing over her disheveled form. she’s on her knees, hair an absolute wreck, begging you to fix it with promises of whatever you want. the vulnerability in her voice tugs at you, her cute, flushed face making it nearly impossible to say no.

“fine,” you relent, passing her your phone. the tension in her shoulders melts as she exhales a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. slipping your phone into her pocket, she stands, her fingers brushing against yours as you lead her to the salon chair.

“thank you so much,” she whispers, her voice soft as she peppers kisses over your knuckles. her lips are warm, reverent, each touch delicate and lingering, like a silent apology.

you grab the back of the sleek black chair, spinning it around so billie can face the large vanity mirror. the gold and white accent jibbitz on your black crocs catch the light as your foot pumps the chair’s pedal, raising it to your height.

the soft buzz of the hvac fills the quiet salon, mingling with the faint sounds of a reality tv show playing faintly in the background. you move toward the cabinet, the cool metal handle pressing against your fingers as you open it to retrieve what you need.

you gather the essentials—sectioning clips, brushes, bowls, dye bottles in various shades of blue, shampoo, and conditioner—all of it placed into a plastic tub. setting it on the counter in front of billie, you grab a cape and apron from the nearby rack, the fabric smooth and familiar against your fingers.

slipping the apron over your head, you tie it behind your back before draping the cape over billie’s shoulders. the velcro tabs fasten snugly around her neck, securing her for what you both know will be a long evening ahead.

billie digs into the pocket of her sweatpants, pulling out her phone with the lazy precision of someone buying time. her fingers swipe absently across the screen, scrolling through apps and notifications, but her focus drifts as you step behind her. instinctively, her head tilts back, her damp, tangled strands crumpling slightly against your stomach. the warmth of her resting there is an unspoken intimacy, one that almost softens your irritation—almost.

“did you at least put vaseline on your edges like i told you to?” you ask, already knowing the answer but holding onto a sliver of hope.

her scrolling halts. there’s a pregnant pause as she processes your question, her eyes darting to the side in the way they always do when she’s been caught. she sucks in a breath, her teeth grazing her bottom lip as she stares anywhere but at you, as if the walls themselves might save her.

“billie,” you whine, dragging her name out as your eyes instinctively roll toward the ceiling.

reaching for your hand on her shoulder, she turns her head just enough to press a quick, placating kiss against your knuckles. “i’m sorry,” she murmurs, her lips curving into that small, crooked smile designed to melt you.

“now when you start turning colors, i don’t wanna hear it,” you shoot back, exasperated. “how many times do i have to tell you to put some kind of protectant on your skin?” your voice lilts into an exaggerated dramatization because, without it, she’d never listen.

“i know, baby,” she coos, her tone dripping with faux contrition, and you can’t decide if you want to kiss her or strangle her.

with a heavy sigh, you let your fingers trail through her hair, the strands coarse and uneven as you assess the damage. the texture of her missteps lies in your hands, and though it’s a disaster, it’s a familiar one.

you exhale slowly, grounding yourself for what’s ahead. “okay, let’s see what we’re working with.” gently, you sift through her hair, pulling at a patch near the crown.

“girl…” you say, drawing the word out, “…what the fuck is this?” holding the brassy streak up for her to see, you tilt her head toward the mirror.

“i think that’s where i started,” she admits, her grin a sheepish curve that wavers as her eyes meet yours in the glass.

you shake your head in disbelief, spinning her chair so she’s facing you now. “do you know what that means?”

her brow arches in a silent question, waiting for your inevitable proclamation.

grabbing her hand, you guide her toward the shampoo bowl. the porcelain is cool against her neck as you ease her into position, your touch firm but gentle. your fingers cradle the base of her neck, their warmth grounding her as you lift her hair into the bowl.

“it means deep conditioning. lots of it,” you declare, the finality in your tone leaving no room for debate. “you better make peace with the dryer cap at home because it’s about to be your best friend.”

she groans, the sound low and dramatic, but she doesn’t argue. her resignation is written in the soft slouch of her shoulders as you step away, the sound of your footsteps echoing lightly in the quiet salon.

at your station, you grab what you need—a clarifying shampoo, a paddle brush, and a bottle of conditioner that promises miracles. your fingers graze the cool metal of the sink knobs as you return, twisting them to find the right temperature.

you test the water first, letting it pool in your palm before flicking a few drops toward billie’s face.

“hey!” she yelps, her head jerking slightly as she blinks up at you, mock offense written all over her face.

“what was that for?” she blinks rapidly, her blue eyes wide with mock betrayal, mouth slightly agape as if the water had shocked her soul awake.

“that’s because some people think it’s okay to be hardheaded and ruin their hair,” you retort, your tone sharp yet laced with teasing sass, the kind she secretly adores.

you grin, a mischievous edge tugging at the corners of your lips as you lean over her. “alexa,” you call out to the speaker perched in the corner, “resume my music.”

the soft strains of r&b flow through the air, warm and rich, filling the space between you. the song’s melody wraps around you both, threading its way into the moment as your fingers move to her hair.

“you better thank me for this later,” you tease, a hint of fondness creeping into your voice despite yourself.

her lips curl into a small smile, her eyes fluttering shut as you begin to work, the rhythm of the music syncing with the gentle movements of your hands.

you reach for the sprayer, its chrome gleaming under the soft light, and begin to rinse her hair. warm water cascades over her scalp in soothing waves, like liquid velvet flowing through each strand. the gentle pressure massages away the chaos of the day, and you can feel her body melt a little further into the chair.

leaning over her, your movements are both skilled and tender, the natural grace of someone who has done this a hundred times before but still finds joy in the ritual. you grab the red paddle brush, its bristles catching the light like a promise of transformation, and begin working through her damp hair. the knots resist at first, but the brush glides through with practiced ease, pulling softly, releasing each tangle like it’s freeing her from some invisible weight.

casting the brush aside, you reach for the clarifying shampoo. “this’ll strip as much of the box dye out as possible,” you explain, your voice a gentle melody against the background hum of water. “after that, i’ll tone it to fix the brassiness.”

the bottle makes a soft squelch as you squeeze a pearlescent glob into your palm, its silky texture catching the light. the faint, floral scent rises, intertwining with something sweet and clean, filling the air between you. rubbing your hands together, the shampoo blooms into a rich lather, and you hum softly along to the music as you work it into her hair.

your hands move with precision, starting at her roots. the pads of your fingers glide over her scalp, your acrylic nails grazing just enough to send a shiver down her spine. then you press a little harder, your movements circular and deliberate, coaxing the stubborn dye out while soothing her with each motion. the faint jangle of your bracelets punctuates the rhythm of your work, the charms clinking softly as you rub small, methodical circles along her forehead, her baby hairs curling as water meets skin.

at the nape of her neck, your pinkies trace gentle arcs, ensuring no dye lingers where her hair meets her skin. the suds build, thick and creamy, clinging to her strands like clouds ready to drift away.

you’re lost in the focus of your task until you feel her gaze on you, steady and soft, like she’s committing every detail to memory. glancing down, you meet her blue eyes, their depth catching you off guard.

“you okay?” you whisper, your voice low and warm, the question carrying more than just concern—it holds affection, reassurance.

her tattooed hand slips out from under the cape, inked angels adorning her skin as her thumb brushes against your forearm. her touch is light but insistent, pulling you closer until your arms rest against the sink’s edge, caging her in. her head tilts slightly, her smile soft and content as she hums a quiet acknowledgment.

you feel the weight of her trust in that moment, her complete surrender as her body relaxes under your hands. each movement of your fingers, each stroke through her hair, feels like an unspoken promise: i’ve got you. let me take care of this.

“i’m sorry. for real,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper, but the sincerity in it wraps around you like a warm embrace.

you pause, your fingers still tangled in her hair, your brows furrowing. “for what, baby?”

her lips press into a pout, their natural blush deepened by her vulnerability. “for messing up. i didn’t want to make you have to work again, but… i panicked.” her free hand finds your thigh, resting there gently as if to anchor herself in the moment.

“oh, do not apologize, my love,” you reassure her, resuming the slow, soothing massage of her scalp. “it’s my job to fix these kinds of things. besides, i like doing your hair. i was just fussing to fuss, okay? it’s okay to make mistakes—especially when you’ve got me to help you out.”

you lean in closer, your voice softening as your fingers thread through her hair, combing through the strands with care. “you know i’d do this for you any day, right? so don’t worry about it. just sit back, relax, and let me work my magic.”

a small hum of contentment escapes her lips as she nods, her pout still evident. you lean down, closing the space between you, and press a soft kiss to her lips. her lashes flutter against your cheeks, her lips parting slightly as she tastes the faint mix of her mint chapstick and your strawberry gloss mingling together.

her hands find your back, tugging gently as if she can’t quite get enough of your closeness. a quiet laugh escapes you, light and airy, as you pull back, planting one last peck before returning to your work.

turning the water back on, you tilt the sprayer toward the base of her scalp, the warm stream washing away the thick suds. swirling ribbons of old dye and shampoo trail down the bowl, the colors melding into a soft pastel kaleidoscope before vanishing down the drain. the water flows smoothly through your fingers, its warmth lingering as you work through her hair, strand by strand, washing away every trace of her mistake.

and in the quiet intimacy of the moment, the rhythm of your work and the softness of her gaze make everything else fade away.

her eyes flutter closed, a soft breath escaping her lips as she melts into the sensation of your hands moving with steady intent. you cradle her head gently, guiding the stream of water with care, ensuring no spot is left untouched. your free hand parts the damp strands, fingers slipping through them like silk as you coax out the stubborn dye that clings to the ends, reluctant to let go.

as the water runs, the colors begin to bleed away, the once cloudy liquid shifting to clear, signaling the start of something fresh, something new. your nails graze softly against her scalp, soothing and purposeful, like a gentle caress that lingers, making sure every trace of dye is gone. the motion becomes rhythmic, almost hypnotic, and you can’t help but smile at the way billie’s body relaxes, her posture softening under your touch.

“see? all clean,” you murmur, your voice a gentle whisper, comforting and warm as you turn off the sprayer. the water runs from your hands like the last traces of tension, and you brush a damp strand of hair from her cheek with the same tenderness.

once the water runs clear, you set the sprayer aside, your fingers still lingering in her hair, smoothing through the damp strands as they fall into place. with practiced grace, you gather the hair in your palms, squeezing gently to coax out the excess water. the droplets fall softly into the basin, their rhythm steady and soothing, like the quiet pulse of a heartbeat. your hands move with an almost reverent precision, mindful not to tug, only wringing out enough water to keep the hair from dripping too much.

you extend your arm toward the counter, reaching for a fresh, warm black towel that rests nearby. the heat still clings to it from the dryer, and as you drape it over billie’s head, you cup your hands around it, tucking the edges securely. you press the towel softly against her scalp, the warmth radiating through the fabric, soaking up the last of the moisture, comforting her like a quiet embrace.

“there,” you say, a smile pulling at your lips as you step back for a moment, surveying the work. “all rinsed and wrapped up. ready for the next step, love?”

with a gentle nod, she follows you back over to the chair, her presence still relaxed, her smile a soft echo of the comfort you’ve given. you walk over to the coffee table, grabbing the remote and handing it to her as you turn her away from the mirror. she flips through the categories, her fingers tracing the screen as you move to the black bar, retrieving your supplies from the black tub and setting them on the counter in their familiar, ordered arrangement.

the first bottle to emerge is the black dye, cool and smooth in your hand, its cap unscrewing with a satisfying twist. you squeeze a measured amount into a mixing bowl, the thick, inky substance pooling at the bottom with a weight that feels satisfying, as if it holds all the potential for the transformation ahead. next, the developer, creamy and faintly metallic, pours in a controlled stream, the contrast between the jet-black dye and the pale developer stark, almost artistic, like night meeting day.

grabbing your dye brush, you begin to stir with slow, deliberate movements, folding the two substances together. the black streaks through the white, at first marbled and uneven, then gradually blending into a glossy, midnight-colored cream. you lean in closer, making sure the mixture is smooth, scraping the sides of the bowl with the brush to gather every last drop of product.

next, you grab the smaller bowls for the blue dyes, each one its own vibrant hue. you pour the colors in, no need for developer, knowing these are semi-permanents, their vibrancy untouched by the need for mixing. the blues swirl together, each one vivid and intense, and you can feel the excitement building—ready to blend them with the deep, dark base.

the rhythm of the mixing is calming, a ritual you know by heart, each movement of your brush a practiced, soothing motion. the anticipation swells in your chest as you prepare to bring together the perfect blend for billie’s hair.

when the dyes are perfectly mixed, you turn back to billie, positioning yourself behind her once more. you shake the towel before gently unraveling it from her head, the fabric slipping off her hair with a soft rustle. her hair—now long and wavy—falls freely, cascading in fluid, graceful waves over her shoulders like liquid midnight. you take in the beauty of the moment, before reaching for your parting comb. you move with practiced ease, carefully dividing her hair into six sections, the comb gliding smoothly through each strand, as if the strands themselves are eager to fall into place.

you begin by clipping the top half of her hair, then sectioning the lower half into two parts, ensuring that the color will apply evenly, without hesitation. the clips snap into place with precision, each movement deliberate. slipping your gloves on, you start applying the dye to the roots, your hands steady and deliberate. the dye meets her scalp, each brushstroke a quiet promise, ensuring that every strand is perfectly coated. the comb moves through effortlessly with each section, your touch confident and fluid. billie can feel you behind her, though she can’t see what you’re doing. yet, there’s a trust that hangs between you, a deep and unspoken understanding that makes your heart swell with quiet affection.

“you’re so good at this,” billie murmurs, her voice low and admiring, watching as the color sinks in effortlessly.

“you can’t even see what i’m doing, babe,” you chuckle softly, setting the bowl of dye down. you lean over, placing your elbows on the chair as you spin it, bringing her face to the mirror so she can watch your every move.

“okay, but i know you, and i know you’re good at what you do. i swear, i’m never doing my own hair again.”

her compliment lingers in the air, a sweet echo, and you smile as you pick up the bowl once more, moving behind her with a sense of purpose. billie flinches slightly as the cold dye touches her scalp, but you smooth it out with gentle strokes, your acrylics gliding through her hair, the sensation soft and calming. you focus entirely on the application, taking your time to make sure each section is perfect. “it takes years to perfect,” you whisper, as the color settles into her strands, dark and even.

the tv show hums softly in the background, but you’re not really paying attention to it. billie’s eyes flicker between you and the mirror, her gaze never straying far from your hands, which move with precision and care.

“are you excited for the tour?” you ask, keeping the conversation flowing, your voice a steady current as your hands continue their work.

billie nods slowly, the slightest furrow of concern crossing her brow. “yeah, but… it’s also nerve-wracking. i mean, i haven’t toured in a while, so i’m a little anxious.”

you glance at her, surprised. “why are you nervous, baby?”

your hands pause, the brush hovering mid-stroke as you meet her gaze in the mirror. her eyes dart away, a subtle shrug rolling through her shoulders, hidden beneath the cape. “i don’t know,” she admits softly, her voice carrying a faint edge of vulnerability. “i guess… i’m worried people won’t connect with the new stuff, or that i’ll mess up. it’s been a while, you know?”

you set the brush down in the bowl, wiping your hands on a nearby towel, then moving to stand beside her. one hand rests gently on her shoulder, your fingers grazing the curve of her collarbone, your thumb moving in slow, reassuring circles against the fabric of her shirt. “billie, you’re amazing,” you say, your voice warm, but firm. “you’ve got nothing to prove to anyone. you’ve worked so hard on this, and i know it’s going to blow people away. plus,” you add with a playful smile, “if anyone’s got the nerve to doubt you, i’ll just have to handle it.”

she meets your gaze in the mirror, her eyes softening, a small, grateful smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “thanks,” she whispers. “it helps hearing that from you.”

you kiss the top of her head lightly, mindful of the dye, before stepping back to your place behind her. “anytime, love,” you say, picking up the brush again. “now hold still—i’m almost done.”

as you finish applying the dye, billie’s expression softens, her earlier tension slowly giving way to a quiet sense of ease. the warmth of her trust fills the room, wrapping around both of you, and for a moment, the low murmur of the tv fades into the background, leaving only the sound of the brush smoothing through her hair, each stroke a quiet act of care.

“what’d you wanna eat?” she asks, breaking the silence, her voice light.

“um…” you pause briefly, considering. “it’s whatever you want.”

she rolls her eyes, a playful glint lighting her expression. “you always say that,” she teases, her tone affectionate but laced with knowing. “but then when i pick, you’ll complain about it.”

you chuckle softly, setting the brush down and giving her hair a final once-over to make sure the dye is even. “that’s not true,” you counter, your grin betraying your words. “okay, maybe sometimes. but i promise, i won’t complain this time.”

she tilts her head slightly, her eyes flicking up to meet yours in the mirror, a smirk tugging at her lips. “mmhmm. so if i say vegan sushi, you won’t pull that face you always do?”

“no…?” you trail off, narrowing your eyes playfully.

“if you say so,” she laughs, leaning back in the chair, her shoulders relaxing at last. she pulls out her phone, the light from the screen flickering against her face as she pulls up the website to order food.

you grab your comb once more, your hand settling gently on the back of her head, tilting it slightly so you can part the back. the metal end of the comb glides smoothly through the mid to low portions of her hair, creating an even part with ease. gathering the spare hair in your hand, you bend slightly, reaching for a clip and securing it with careful precision.

turning back to your station, you pick up the light blue dye, starting to apply it about three inches down from the roots. the color glides on with a vibrant pop against the black, a striking contrast that’s already beginning to take shape. you feather the dye carefully, blending it seamlessly into the black, creating a smooth, ombre transition. billie’s hair is thick, and you take your time, moving with quiet intention, combing through each section to ensure the colors blend perfectly. with gloved fingers, you work the dye into her hair, making sure it’s just right, the blues flowing into the black in perfect harmony. you repeat the process with the other two shades of blue, each one vibrant, intense, creating a masterpiece of color with every stroke.

the atmosphere is calm now, the warm glow of the lights spilling across the polished surfaces, casting soft reflections that shimmer like a quiet symphony. every little moment between you two seems to stretch longer, the air thick with the deepening connection, the space between your souls growing closer with each passing second. you finish the blue ombré, your hands steady as you apply the final touches, then grab a plastic cap, gently placing it over billie’s head to let the dyes process. the room is silent, save for the low hum of the tv and the rhythm of your breathing, until a knock on the door breaks the peace.

you remove your gloves with a practiced motion and make your way to the door, finding a delivery man holding a bag labeled “take out.” with a soft smile, you reach into your back pocket, pulling out ten dollars for his tip, exchanging it for the food as you offer a quiet thank you. the door closes behind you, the warmth of the room welcoming you back in.

you retreat back inside, removing the black cape from billie’s shoulders, followed by your apron, tossing them carelessly into a corner, the fabric settling like memories discarded in haste. crouching down, you sit cross-legged on the floor by the coffee table, billie mirroring your movement beside you. you open the boxes of the chinese takeout, the aroma instantly filling the air—soy sauce, garlic, and something sweet and tangy all blending together, making your stomach rumble in eager anticipation.

the fluffy carpet beneath you contrasts against the cool, smooth hardwood of the salon, the softness of it grounding you in the moment. you open the boxes slowly, careful to not spill any of the steaming food. inside, the noodles glisten, their texture tender and inviting. the spring rolls are crispy, their golden brown crusts promising a satisfying crunch, and the stir-fried veggies glisten, coated in a savory sheen, the light catching each vibrant color like jewels in the dim room.

handing billie a pair of chopsticks, you take your own, your fingers easily finding their grip. you dive into the food, the two of you settling into a rhythm—eating, talking, and occasionally laughing at the little moments between bites.

“this is so much better than sushi,” you joke, nudging her lightly with your knee as you twirl some lo mein onto your chopsticks.

billie rolls her eyes, grinning. “you’re lucky i was in the mood for chinese. otherwise, you’d be starving right now.”

you laugh, taking another bite. the savory flavors burst across your tongue, comforting and satisfying, grounding you in the simplicity of the moment. “guess i owe you one, huh?”

billie raises an eyebrow, a playful glint lighting her eyes. “oh, you definitely do. next time, i’m picking. no arguments.”

“i told you to pick, but deal.” you say around a mouthful of food, earning a mock look of disapproval from her, but you both laugh, the sound of it rich and warm, like music in the quiet room.

the tv continues to play softly in the background, but neither of you are truly paying attention, too lost in your easy banter, too caught up in the gentle rhythm of being together. every so often, you catch her stealing a glance at you—her expression soft, her gaze full of unspoken things—and your heart swells with something quiet and content. you can’t help but smile back, the warmth in your chest blooming as if it’s something you’ve known all along.

as you twirl the noodles onto your chopsticks, the sharp bite of a voice from the tv slices through the air, pulling both of you from the comfortable rhythm you’d settled into.

“you know what? i don’t need this energy from fake ass bitch like you of all people!” a woman yells, her tone dripping with venom, and you both freeze mid-bite. the camera cuts to her, hurling a drink across the room, the liquid splashing like a violent cascade as gasps rise from the background.

“ohhh shit.” you gasp out, sounding like a toddler on the verge of telling on someone.

“wait, what the fuck jus’ happened?” billie asks, sitting up straighter, chopsticks suspended in the air like a moment frozen in time.

you squint at the screen, fingers reaching for the remote to turn the volume up, the faint hum of the tv now louder in your ears. “hold on—what’re we watching right now?”

billie shakes her head, a laugh bubbling out as she points to the screen. “i don’t know, but that was—did she just—was that a margarita?!”

“oh yea, most definitely,” you confirm, a grin tugging at your lips as you set your box of food down on the coffee table, the subtle thud of it breaking the silence. “who even does that?”

“apparently her,” billie says, gesturing to the woman storming off-screen, her heels clicking sharply against the floor like a declaration of finality.

you both watch, eyes wide, as the scene cuts to a confessional, the same woman ranting with a voice full of venom. “she thinks she can talk about me behind my back? please. i’m not the one with a cheating ass boyfriend.”

simultaneously, you and billie gasp, grabbing onto one another in shock at the confession, and then burst into laughter. the sound of it warm and effortless, a shared joy.

“oh my god,” billie says, leaning back onto her hands, her eyes dancing with amusement. “she’s so real. i kind of love it.”

you nod, picking up another spring roll, letting its crisp warmth settle in your hand as you sink deeper into the moment. “you’re so messy. like, look at you encouraging violence,” you tease, giving a light kiss of your teeth as you shake your head.

the two of you continue watching, caught in a tangled mix of laughter and genuine debate, the absurdity of the show now grounding the conversation. billie leans in closer, her chopsticks tapping absently against the edge of her box, the sound soft but rhythmic.

“okay, but listen,” she says, her voice animated, a new layer of thoughtfulness pulling at her tone, “i get why she’s mad, but did she have to throw the drink? i’m not gonna lie, that’s just embarrassing for her.”

“nah, i don’t know,” you counter, your voice playful but threaded with a hint of consideration. “if someone called me a fake ass bitch on camera, i’d probably snap too. but maybe i’d throw something less sticky.”

“like what?”

“water? a smoothie? i don’t know—something that doesn’t smell like tequila,” you answer with a smirk, the edge of your voice soft and teasing.

billie laughs, shaking her head with mock exasperation. “remind me never to cross you.”

you nudge her playfully with your knee, the motion light and easy. “just don’t talk shit, and we’ll be fine.”

by the time the episode ends, both of your food containers are empty, the remnants of your meal scattered across the coffee table like the final traces of a good time. you’re fully invested now, the show pulling you in deeper with every outrageous twist. you glance at billie, eyes flicking to the next episode’s preview, torn between indulging in another round or letting the dye process take center stage. billie grabs the remote, already clicking through, her focus sharpening as the screen changes, the night stretching on.

“one more,” she says, her eyes glinting with mischief, a sly smile curling at the corners of her lips. “just to see if they make up. we have time, right?”

“definitely,” you agree, but you get up from your place on the floor, your fingers lightly tapping her knee as you stand. “but we do need to get this dye out of your hair, so come on.” you move toward the corner, pulling her cape from the pile where you had tossed it earlier, and she follows you, reluctant but amused.

“fine,” billie grumbles, dragging her feet in mock protest as she moves toward the wash bowl. “but if i miss something, it’s your fault.”

you laugh, shaking your head, the sound light and free. “girl…you’ll survive. besides, you don’t want to leave the dye in too long. trust me, it’s not cute.”

billie settles into the chair with a long sigh, tilting her head back into the basin, the soft curve of her neck exposed in the dim light. “you’re the expert,” she says, teasing but soft, her trust in you woven into the words.

“damn right,” you reply, pulling the wet cap from her head, the colors leaving faint imprints on the plastic before you discard it, the faint hiss of it hitting the trash can like a small exhale. slipping on a fresh pair of gloves, you turn on the water, testing the temperature against your wrist before letting it cascade over her hair, the black and blue dyes swirling together in a quiet, colorful dance. the stream flows over her scalp, soft but persistent, coaxing a small hum of contentment from her, and you smile to yourself, pleased by the soothing rhythm.

“feel good?” you ask, your fingers gently massaging her scalp as you check to make sure all the dye is rinsed away, the soft friction of your touch making her relax even more.

“so good,” she murmurs, her eyes closed now, her body sinking further into the chair as the warmth of the water works its magic.

you can’t help but admire the way the rich black fades into the striking blue, the ombré already catching the light in delicate flashes, as if the colors themselves are in conversation. once the water runs clear, you turn it off and reach for a towel, gently squeezing out the excess water from her hair, your hands careful but purposeful.

“hold still,” you whisper, wrapping the warm towel snugly around her head. she lets out a soft sigh as the heat seeps into her scalp, the tension melting from her, her lips curling into a small, content smile.

“you really spoil me, you know that?” she says, her voice soft but sincere, the words a gentle confession.

“someone’s gotta keep you in line, besides if not me then who?” you tease, helping her rise from the chair, your fingers brushing lightly over her arm as you lead her back to the station. you turn around, your mind already shifting to the next step, reaching into your closet for the next set of tools—heat protectant, blow dryer, round brush, scissors, leave-in conditioner, straightener, parting comb, and clips, all free of dye.

you place your items on the countertop, moving with practiced ease as you quickly dispose of the dying supplies, along with your gloves, and dumping the bowls into the sink with a quiet clink! you grab the bottle of leave-in conditioner, squeezing a generous dollop into your palm. the creamy product is cool against your skin as you rub your hands together, warming it up before stepping behind billie. your fingers slip gently through the damp strands, working the conditioner in from roots to ends. her hair feels soft, pliable, and just slick enough as the product absorbs, and you take your time, your movements slow and deliberate, each touch soothing, grounding, and tender.

“gotta make sure this stays healthy after all that dye,” you murmur, the words soft, half to yourself, half to her, as your hands glide over her hair in slow, steady strokes. your nails graze her scalp occasionally, sending soft tingles down her spine, a delicate reminder of the connection between you.

once the conditioner is evenly applied, you plug in the blow dryer and straightener, the soft hum of the machines filling the space as they heat up. your hand rests lightly on her shoulder, a quiet comfort. “alright, let’s get this dried and looking perfect,” you say, your voice low as you grab the blow dryer and a large round brush.

the warm air begins to flow, a gentle wave of heat that seeps into her scalp, contrasting with the coolness of the conditioner. you work methodically, sectioning her hair, rolling it around the brush with a careful precision. each pull of the dryer tightens the strands, smoothing them, while the brush’s bristles tug gently, almost coaxing her hair into submission. the heat locks in the shine, giving it a soft, glossy finish, and your movements are rhythmic, like a quiet dance—the steady hum of the blow dryer blending with your occasional quiet remarks about the netflix show still playing on the screen.

for her, the process is a symphony of sensations—gentle tension from the brush, the comforting warmth of the dryer’s air, and the soothing, skilled touch of hands that know her hair better than anyone else. each stroke of the brush feels like a small act of love, a silent promise wrapped in care, leaving her hair light, fluffy, and full of life, as if it’s been reborn under your hands.

once the hair is dry, you set the dryer down with a soft click and pick up the flat iron, adjusting the temperature with a practiced flick of your wrist. “okay, babe, i need you to be absolutely still,” you say with a grin, wagging the iron lightly in the mirror so she can see that you’re serious. you section her hair once more, your hands steady, not wanting to risk burning her, knowing how delicate the process is.

you spray the heat protectant over her hair, the thick mist settling over the strands, a silent shield against the heat. then, with a steady hand, the flat iron glides through each section, releasing a soft, sizzling sound, like a whispered promise. the heat smooths the strands into sleek perfection, each pass making her hair feel even silkier, even smoother. she can feel the warmth of the iron passing through her hair, not too hot but just enough to make her scalp feel cozy, like a gentle caress. with every pass, her hair becomes more unreal to the touch, soft and straight, as though it belongs to someone else, someone who knows exactly how to treat it.

as you finish, you run your hands over the newly straightened hair, letting the strands slip between your fingers like liquid silk, smooth and soft. “there we go,” you murmur, stepping back to admire your work, the faint shimmer of the pretty blue peeking out from beneath the jet black hair, catching the light in the most subtle way.

your fiancé tilts her head slightly to get a better look at her sleek hair in the mirror, and you grab your shears and a fine-tooth comb, the tools gliding through your hands with ease. “let’s add a little shape, yeah? just some light layers to bring it all together,” you say, your voice warm and reassuring, a soft promise of perfection.

sectioning the hair again with clips, your movements are fluid, practiced—each step a dance of familiarity. picking up a strand, you comb it straight, the fine-tooth comb catching the light with every pass before snipping carefully. the soft snick of the scissors echoes in the space, each cut precise, deliberate. the loose pieces of hair fall away like delicate threads, spiraling softly to the floor, almost weightless in their descent. your touch is gentle, yet purposeful, your head tilting slightly as you examine the angle of each layer, making sure it’s exactly right.

the r&b music playing softly in the background shifts, slowing down to something older, smoother, soulful. without thinking, you start whisper-singing along, your voice low, raspy but sweet, a sound that carries the tune effortlessly as you work. “oh my gosh, this is my song,” you murmur with a small smile, not stopping your quiet singing even as you shift your position to trim the next section, your hands steady and sure.

billie watches you in the mirror, her gaze fixed on you, captivated by the way you hum and move in sync with the music. your lips form the words to a song that feels like comfort, like nostalgia, a piece of your soul woven into each note. it’s intimate—your voice barely audible over the sound of the scissors snipping, but the harmony of it all feels like a private concert just for her, the world outside fading away.

when the cutting is done, you set the scissors down with a soft click and reach for the flat iron again, the familiar weight of it in your hands grounding you. “now to finish it off,” you say softly, your voice still laced with the quiet energy of the song. as the flat iron glides through the freshly trimmed layers, you move slower, almost mesmerized by the way the hair falls perfectly into place, each strand a work of art under your touch. the song plays on, and you hum the last verse under your breath, your hand following the rhythm as you smooth out the ends with expert care, the warmth of the iron leaving the hair sleek, as smooth as your voice.

once the final section is done, you spray a fine mist of finishing spray, the light scent filling the air as it locks everything in place, giving her hair that glossy, healthy shine. stepping back with a soft smile, you run your comb through her silky layers, the strands gliding effortlessly, almost weightless. “there. perfectly layered, silky smooth, and bone straight,” you murmur, brushing a few stray strands away from her face, your fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary. “what do you think?”

billie turns her head slowly from side to side, inspecting the smooth jet-black color that bleeds into a bright, vibrant blue at the back, the contrast stunning against the sleek, rich darkness. she smiles, her eyes lighting up, a quiet satisfaction dancing in her gaze. “wow. you really pulled it off. i look… amazing.”

grinning, you wipe your hands on a towel, the soft fabric absorbing the last of the dampness. “i told you i could fix it.” pride blooms in your chest, warm and content. your fingers reach for the back of her neck, gently undoing the velcro tabs, removing the cape with a practiced motion, shaking off any excess hair that clings to the fabric. as you lean her body back in the chair, billie tilts her neck, her eyes locking with yours. a soft, playful smile forms on her lips as she puckers them, her gaze full of quiet affection. a small giggle escapes you, and you meet her in a tender kiss, your lips lingering, a momentary pause where everything else fades.

a sleepy smile tugs at the corners of her lips as she whispers between kisses, her voice soft and sincere, “thank you.”

“always. i’m not gonna let you walk around looking crazy, you know that.” you plant a soft kiss to her forehead, the warmth of your lips lingering for just a beat before you gently guide her to a chair, where she can relax while you finish up.

moving around the salon, you begin to clean up your station, tidying the space where you’ve spent the last several hours. the air hums with the low, steady sound of the television playing in the background, switching from the show you’d been watching earlier to a late-night talk show filled with random jokes and light chatter. billie sits in the corner, her eyes still sparkling as she admires her hair, now glowing softly under the warm, inviting lights of the salon. she pulls out her phone, capturing a few pictures of her new look, turning her head from side to side, caught in awe of the transformation.

as billie scrolls through her pictures, you wipe down the counter, returning your tools to their places with careful precision. but you can’t help but notice the subtle shift in her energy. her usual spark, that lively brightness, seems to dim as she leans back in the chair, her eyelids fluttering as exhaustion starts to settle in. the day has been long, and you can see it catching up with her.

with a soft, knowing smile, you hurry to finish the last of the cleaning—sweeping the floor, wiping down the counters, making everything neat. each motion is quick, purposeful. you want to get billie home, tucked in, where she can unwind after the whirlwind of the day. the thought of resting together, of the quiet comfort of home, fills you with a quiet urgency.

when you finish, you grab the remote, clicking off the tv with a soft sound, followed by the gentle hum of the alexa, music fading into silence. you gather your things from the rack behind the door, zipping up your jacket, slinging your purse over your shoulder. you walk over to where billie is softly dozing in the corner, and with careful fingers, you reach into her pocket, fishing out her car keys and your phone. her body stirs as she feels your light touch, but she remains blissfully unaware.

lifting her hand gently, you help her up. “come on, let’s get you home.” you turn off all the lights, the soft click of switches echoing in the quiet space, before locking the door behind you. the cool night air of LA greets you as you step outside. with a press of the key fob, the porsche unlocks, and you slide into the driver’s seat, feeling the weight of the day settle into your bones. billie slips into the passenger seat beside you, curling up in her spot, her head leaning against the window. the car roars to life with the press of the ignition, and you begin the drive home, the rhythm of the road steady and comforting as billie’s eyelids grow heavier with every passing moment.

the drive back is peaceful. the soft hum of the car engine creates a gentle lullaby, accompanied by the occasional sound of tires gliding over the smooth asphalt. the streetlights flicker in rhythmic succession, casting brief, golden glows that sweep over the streets in the night’s embrace.

your gaze drifts over to billie every now and then, catching glimpses of her peacefully dozing off, her features relaxed in the quiet of the car. the streetlights spill through the windows, bathing her face in a soft, warm glow that makes her look even more serene. it’s a perfect, tranquil moment, and your heart swells with a quiet affection. she looks so at peace, safe and calm, wrapped in the comfort of the night.

the car slows to a gentle stop as you approach a red light. the warm glow from the traffic light washes over billie’s face, painting her delicate features in a soft, crimson hue.

a smile tugs at your lips, tender and full of love, as you glance at her once more. billie’s lashes flutter softly, stirring ever so slightly, but she doesn’t wake. your hand moves away from the wheel, fingers grazing across her cheek before cupping her jaw. she leans into your touch instinctively, a quiet sigh escaping her lips. the connection feels like a fleeting, yet eternal, moment, a promise of care and warmth.

as the light turns green, you pull your hand back, placing it gently on the steering wheel. you continue the drive home, the rhythmic flicker of streetlights through the windows adding to the serenity of the moment. billie stays curled in her seat beside you, her soft breaths the only sound accompanying the steady hum of the car.

as the familiar sight of your shared home comes into view, you ease the car into the garage, the low rumble of the engine settling into stillness. putting the car in park, you turn it off, nudging billie softly as she stirs awake, her eyes blinking open slowly. you reach for your keys, her hand slipping into yours as you unlock the door to the house. the quiet of the night surrounds you as you lead her inside, slipping your shoes off before guiding her to your bedroom.

once inside, you cross into the adjoining bathroom. billie leans gently against the doorframe, watching as you crouch down, rummaging through the cabinets beneath the sink. you pull out two shower caps, the simple task feeling comforting in the stillness of the moment. you place hers on her head, tucking each strand of her black and blue hair under it with careful hands. then you repeat the process for your own hair, your movements slow and deliberate. once the caps are securely in place, you turn on the shower, adjusting the temperature to the perfect warmth.

turning back to her, you both begin shedding your clothes, each piece falling softly to the floor like whispered secrets. the air is thick with warmth and steam, and as you step into the shower together, the water cascades down in soothing rivulets, wrapping you both in its embrace. billie leans against the cool tiled wall, letting the steam unwind her body, and you quickly wash yourself, the soft sound of water splashing around you almost meditative.

“you okay over there?” you ask, your voice low, careful not to break the peaceful silence between you. you glance over at billie, her eyes barely open, her face softened in the steam.

without a word, she steps behind you, her warmth pressing against your back as she rests her head in the crook of your neck. the dewy droplets from the shower roll onto her skin, adding a shimmer to her closeness as she wraps her arms around your waist. her thumbs draw light, absentminded circles on your skin, the motion gentle and soothing.

the water flows steadily over both of you, its warmth sinking into your muscles, loosening any lingering tension. billie’s embrace is a gentle weight, her body leaning into yours as if trying to melt into you completely. you tilt your head slightly, allowing her to settle more comfortably in the curve of your neck. in that moment, everything else fades away—the world outside the shower, the thoughts swirling in your mind—all that’s left is the quiet intimacy between you, like a soft blanket wrapping you both in its warmth.

“you’re gonna fall asleep like this,” you whisper, though there’s no reprimand in your voice—only tender amusement, the rhythm of your breaths matching hers.

billie hums softly in response, her voice muffled against your damp skin, “can’t help it. you’re too comfy.”

your lips twitch into a smile, a soft sigh escaping you as you reach for her rag on the side. you grab the body wash next, squeezing it onto the cloth, and then rubbing it together, watching as the lather builds. the air fills with the fresh scent of citrus, mingling with the warmth of vanilla, a fragrance that blends perfectly with the steamy space around you.

“come here,” you murmur, your voice soft, as you gently turn her so her back faces you. your hands begin at her shoulders, moving in slow, deliberate motions, the soap spreading across her skin like silk, tracing the curves of her swirl tattoo as it slides down her back. each touch of your fingers against her skin sends a wave of relaxation through her muscles, the tension unwinding as you move down her arms, then back to her spine. the steady rhythm of your movements is mirrored by the soft patter of water on the tiled floor, the sound like a quiet lullaby that wraps around you both.

“you’re spoiling me,” billie murmurs, her voice soft, almost lost beneath the sound of the water.

“always,” you reply with a quiet laugh, your hands trailing down to her sides, making sure not to miss a single inch of her skin, your touch tender and precise.

turning her back to face you, her half-lidded eyes meet yours for a brief moment before fluttering closed, surrendering to the warmth and intimacy of the moment. you begin washing her front, your touch light, like a feather brushing against her collarbone, down her shoulders, and across her arms. she exhales softly as your hands dip lower, brushing against her stomach, her body swaying gently as the warmth of the water and your care lull her deeper into relaxation.

“all done,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the water, guiding her under the spray to rinse away the suds. your hands move with care, ensuring that every trace of soap is gone, leaving only the warmth and comfort of the moment lingering between you.

you place a hand on her back, your palm gently meeting the light droplets still clinging to her skin, the soft scratch of your acrylic nails trailing across her damp flesh as you lean in to turn off the tap. the water’s rhythmic trickle fades into the background, and with a fluid motion, you slide open the glass door, stepping out into the steamy air. reaching for the towels hanging nearby, you wrap one around each of you, the plush fabric absorbing the last of the warmth from your skin. you remove your shower caps, stepping onto the soft mat, her damp body leaning into you as you guide her back toward the bedroom.

once there, you grab two band tees, one for you and one for billie, slipping them on as you moisturize your skin, the cool scent of lavender and vanilla mingling with the steam still lingering in the air.

you help billie into her pajamas with slow, careful movements, making sure every action is deliberate, your touch gentle as you rub lotion into her arms and legs. the scent of the lotion fills the space between you, wrapping around you both like a comforting embrace.

“i hope you know this is going into your girlfriend tax,” you say, your voice light and playful as you massage lotion into billie’s hand.

“don’t you mean wife?” a smirk dances across her lips, her hand pulling you lightly by the waist, her engagement ring catching the soft light from the bedroom as she tugs you closer. a small giggle escapes you, a sweet reminder of what’s to come. you reach behind you, taking her hand from your hip and guiding her over to the vanity.

you pull out the stool for her to sit, your fingers grazing her shoulder as you remove her shower cap, the remnants of water flinging away with the movement. grabbing a comb from the table, you part her hair carefully, your fingers soft and deliberate as you begin to weave two french braids. the light taps of rain against the windows add a soothing rhythm to the quiet room, the sound merging with the gentle flow of your touch, easing billie further into relaxation.

when you’re done, you reach into the drawer, pulling out a silky brown scarf. you open it with a delicate flick of your fingers, folding it into a neat triangle. aligning the longer side with her forehead, you tie it gently, making sure the knot is firm enough to stay in place, but soft enough to not cause discomfort. it rests just so, a quiet gesture of care before the night settles in around you both.

billie scrambles to your bed, her movements quick as she throws herself under the duvet with a soft sigh, sinking into the softness like she’s finally found her place. you shake your head softly, smiling to yourself as you grab a scarf, pulling it over your hair with the same practiced care. you make your way over to the bed, the quiet click of the lamp turning off filling the space before you slide in next to her. the weight of the day seems to lift in the darkened room, the only sound the gentle tap of rain against the windows.

reaching into your bedside drawer, you slip off your ring, placing it carefully in its box, the cool touch of the metal against your skin a reminder of the bond you share. you stretch your hand back toward billie, palm facing up, and she mirrors the gesture. the coolness of the .48-carat diamond meets your touch as she slides her ring into your hand. you place both rings in their box, closing the drawer softly, the faint sound of the wood settling a quiet punctuation to the moment.

billie drapes her arm over your torso, pulling you closer, her warmth seeping into your skin as your limbs tangle together, two bodies finding comfort in one another. your thumbs trace soft, lazy patterns on her arm, the motion slow and deliberate, a silent promise of peace. she buries her face in the crook of your neck, her breath warm against your skin.

outside, the rain continues its melodic tapping, the rhythm a lullaby as billie’s breathing slows. her body relaxes completely, her embrace a cocoon that shields you from the world.

as she drifts off to sleep, you press a soft kiss to her palm, the touch tender, a quiet act of love. your own eyes grow heavy as the night wraps itself around you both, cocooning you in its warmth. the sound of the rain serenades you into dreams, its rhythm guiding you to sleep, where you rest together, the world fading away.

astrc’s tag list: @zendayasredbottoms @bilsdillldough @billiesrighthand ; hit my asks saying “add to taglist” if you want to be on my regular taglist for all billie content!

[vantetaes]

SPRING FLING🫧🥂

COUNTRY BOY! EREN X CITY GIRL BLACK FEM READER

SUMMARY!!! yn goes back to visit what once was her home 15 years ago, only to meet a new face.

WARNINGS!!! 18+!!! high sexual themes! oral (f receiving), penetration, slow burn before smut

a part of you missed it. waking up to the fresh smell of sausage sizzling in hot grease while grits simmered on a burner next to it. feeling the cool summer breeze whip around your sweltering body from playing kickball in the large mowed field with some of the towns kids. drinking freshly squeezed lemonade your grandmother made before tending to her garden.

as the driver slowly approaches your grandparents estate, your heart couldn’t help but to let up a little. the large white house still sat perfectly on their plot of land.

“yn, sweetheart!” the houses screen door flys open with a screech. your grandmother dressed in a flowing white dress, tan beach hat, arm decorated with small gold bangles and her wedding band catching rays of sun.

the driver places his car in park, opening his door to retrieve your suitcase from the trunk. hopping out of the yellow vehicle, the older lady meets you halfway. wrinkled hands caressing your face, she smiles.

“it’s been too long. you’re all grown up on us!”

before anything could leave your lips, a grunt comes from around the bend of the house. your grandfather, covered in motor oil and dirt caked overalls. he removes his gloves, walking towards you and his wife, smile reaching his ears.

“ah i would hug ya honey but im dirtier than the pigs!”

your grandparents liked the life they lived away from the city. the way they could sit on the wrap around porch, grandfather sipping a beer and grandmother some lemonade, their towns newspaper tucked in their palms. watching as the sun ducked their bright red barn, casting a golden glow over the crops and animals grazing on the lush landscape. the stars peeking through transparent clouds, moon creating its atmosphere in the sky.

your grandmother enjoyed picking fresh fruits from her orchard, baking pies and making jams with the delectable fruits. your grandfather loved the lake that sat on the other side of the large property. growing up you’d grown to love these things about them.

as for yourself? you wouldn’t be caught dead doing half the things they do.

your career path led you to pharmaceutical consulting. working for one of the biggest companies in the world. it wasn’t something you enjoyed, but it funded the life you wanted.

living in a penthouse, well off from the city below you. the work was intense, demanding, and you needed to stay on top of it. anyone is replaceable in jobs such as those.

which is why you put in every single pto hour you had into a month long vacation.

to the middle of nowhere.

the wheels of the suitcase clank against the wooden stairs as your grandfather lugs it up the flight. following behind the older lady, excitement bubbles out of your grandmother while she quickens her pace, rushing to the door at the end of the hallway.

when she pushes the door open, it gives way easily, the hinges murmuring softly. the air that greets you is faintly cool, laced with the sweet scent of spring. someone had left the large french windows cracked open, the lace curtains drifting in slow, ghostly ripples.

“just like you left it, darlin’!” the lady says cheerfully.

stepping in feels like stepping back into a memory too fragile to hold in your hands. the room is pale, almost dreamlike. soft white walls, still wearing faint shadows of posters long torn away, frame the space. A canopy bed sits against the far wall, its sheer, pastel pink and ivory drapes spilling down like delicate water, pooled at the floor as if waiting for someone to step through them. the bed itself is made, layered with quilts of faint creams and frilly edges, whispering of afternoons spent sprawled on its surface with a book or diary.

“mary anne, we gotta get back to town to pick up some more feed for the chickens! ‘for the sun go down! i ain’t got my glasses either.” after placing your suitcase inside the threshold, your grandfather gives the back of your head a slight hold before placing a small kiss to the top.

“okay! okay! you ain’t gotta rush, clyde!” the two eventually leave you alone to unpack and do as you need.

to the right, a dresser waits, its porcelain knobs cool and familiar, though you can see chips where small hands must have struck too hard, too often. a vintage vanity mirrors the scene beside it, its surface cluttered with an array of glass perfume bottles, now dulled with dust. the mirror above has started to haze, its edges flecked with age, but you can still catch glimpses of yourself. a cushioned stool still sits beneath, its ruffled seat faded and threadbare.

the light here is alive. golden and warm, it pours through the cracked windows, catching on floating dust motes that swirl like restless fireflies. outside, unseen branches scratch faintly against the frame, their new leaves brushing with the weightlessness of spring. the breeze curls in through the cracks, carrying the faintest hints of magnolia and freshly turned earth, slipping beneath the canopy and rustling the skirts of the curtains.

there’s a rug in the center of the room, its edges frayed, and around it—near bookshelves that haven’t been touched in years—small details stand out like relics: a porcelain music box with its lid still half-open, a stuffed rabbit missing one eye perched on the window seat. all of it feels caught in a quiet kind of waiting.

your footsteps are softened by the wooden floor beneath, the boards groaning faintly under your weight. you look around and inhale deeply. it smells faintly of lavender, of clean linens, freshly cut grass, and mahogany wood.

the hot water washes away the weight of the morning and plane rides, the steam curling in soft, misty clouds that cling to the glass. you stand under the spray longer than you need to, letting it loosen muscles you hadn’t realized were tight, letting it strip the last remnants of dust from your skin. when you finally step out, the room feels cooler, the steam clinging to the mirror and walls in beads of condensation.

lathing your body in cocoa butter and applying a fair amount of lip balm.

you pull on something simple: a soft white tank top and a pair of loose cerulean cotton shorts, light enough to let the sun find your skin. carefully pulling your shower cap off, the water droplets falling down to your shoulders, running off your moisturized skin. you grab a new bottle of sunscreen from your spwarled out suitcase, the book ‘if cats disappeared from the world’, and your black chanel sunglasses.

as you make your way barefoot down the creaking staircase, everything tucked in between your arm. the house warm and bright in a way that feels both lived-in and empty. you’re halfway to the back porch when the front door swings open, and your grandparents call for your attention.

“hey, hold up a minute-” your grandfather says, pausing just inside the doorway, his hat in one hand and the keys to the truck jangling in the other. Your grandmother lingers behind him, hands resting on her hips, her face soft but serious.

“-we’re headed into town for a bit.” she says. “need some supplies for the farm and a few other things.”

you nod, shifting your weight onto one foot as you glance toward the back porch, toward the promise of sun and quiet.

“‘fore you run off-” your grandfather adds, pulling the hat onto his head.

“one of the town boys is ‘posed to be stoppin’ by. hes gone take a look at the barn, see about fixin’ up some of the beams we been neglectin’.”

“you’ll know him when you see him.” she says, a touch warily.

“so just keep an eye out. he’s probably fine, but you know how folks can be.”

something about their tone. half warning, half habit. makes you bristle. you know how quickly people judge someone based on a name, a family, a shadow cast long before them.

“all right.” you say lightly, hoping to end the conversation before it becomes something heavier.

“i’ll be outside if he shows up.”

your grandmother nods, giving you one last lingering look, and then they’re gone—boots on the porch steps, the truck’s engine growling to life and disappearing down the road. you linger by the door for a moment, watching the dust settle in the empty yard. the house feels quieter now, a little too still.

when you turn toward the back porch, the sunlight calls to you again, warm and golden, a balm for whatever comes next.

the back door opens swiftly, letting in gusts of spring air to sweep across the floors. trudging through the plains of grass tickling your thighs, you find yourself at the small floating pond your grandfather built. it sat in front of the large red barn, creating a scene of what farm living actually is.

the pond is fairly quiet, except for the hum of cicadas and the faint lapping of water against its banks. the cows deep moo a little in the distance. the sun hangs high, drenching everything in gold, and the heat wraps around you like a second skin.

you’re stretched out on a reclined lawn chair, a thin towel draped beneath you to catch the sweat. your sunglasses shield your eyes, and a book rests open in your hands, though the words blur a little under the laziness of the afternoon. a half eaten sandwich and a glass of fresh strawberry lemonade sweats beside you, the condensation leaving rings of water on the tiny wooden table. it’s sweet and cold against your tongue, a small relief in the heaviness of the heat.

your top is flung casually over the back of the chair, leaving you in a white bathing suit, comfortable and unbothered as you let the sun soak into your skin. the soft breeze off the water kisses your shoulders every now and then, rustling the pages of your book.

it isn’t until the sharp, uneven sound of boots on gravel carries over the quiet that you lift your sunglasses, brow pinching.

at first, you only catch a shadow moving toward you from the far side of the reservoir. someone tall, broad-shouldered, and clearly not your grandparents.

“hey!” the voice calls, deep but rough, like he hasn’t spoken much today.

you sit up a little straighter, your sunglasses slipping down the bridge of your nose as you look him over. he’s closer now, close enough for you to see the sharp lines of his face, the way dark hair falls a little too messily over his forehead. he’s wearing a plain t-shirt, worn jeans stained at the knees, and scuffed boots that kick up small puffs of dirt as he moves. there’s a toolbox in his hand, which he sets down carelessly at his feet.

“you’re, uh…-” he trails off, scanning you quickly before looking away, his jaw tight. he was issued to seeing old people on this property. but you were a sight for sore eyes. he couldn’t help but fixate his green eyes back onto you. watching as the beads of condensation dripped from the glass to your exposed cleavage, sliding down between your moisturized boobs. that were too big for the swim top your sported. his eyes fed off the way your e/c* eyes shined in the light under the black shields, lips glistening under the rays.

“im here for the barn. your grandparents said someone would be around.” his words are tight and frigid.

you blink, caught between annoyance and curiosity.

“yeah, they mentioned you.” you let your sunglasses slide back into place, leaning back in the chair as if his presence hasn’t disrupted anything.

“didn’t realize you’d be here so soon.”

“you’re welcome.” he mutters, a hint of sarcasm threading through the words as he squats to grab the toolbox.

you raise a brow, bristling.

“didn’t say i was thanking you.”

that makes him pause, glancing up through his lashes like he can’t decide whether to be amused or annoyed. a scoff releases from his lips.

“you sure are a real warm welcome, huh? and you’re reading a book about.. cats?”

“and you’re a little grumpy for someone who just got here. not that it’s any of your concern, i prefer cats over mutts.”

he huffs out a breath, maybe a laugh, but it’s hard to tell, and shakes his head, muttering something you can’t quite hear. you watch as he straightens up again, swiping the back of his hand across his forehead as if to dismiss you entirely.

“look, i’ll stay outta your way. just here to fix the barn, ma’am.” he says, nodding toward the distant structure.

“you can go back to… whatever this is.” his gaze flickers briefly over your lemonade, the book, your sprawled-out figure in the sun, before he turns on his heel and starts walking toward the barn.

you glare after him, irritation bubbling to the surface. the nerve of him, showing up out of nowhere with a chip on his shoulder like you’re the one invading his day.

“you’re welcome.” you call after him pointedly, though he doesn’t stop, just throws a hand up in a half-hearted wave of dismissal.

the barn door groans open in the distance, and you sink back into your chair with a huff, flipping your book shut. for the first time all day, the quiet doesn’t feel so peaceful anymore.

he had been long gone by the time your grandparents arrived back at the house. watching the sun set on the horizon out of the kitchen windows, casting a warm orange and pink hue to the house. you couldn’t help but to think about how strange of an interaction that was today.

“some’ wrong, darlin’?” your grandfather asks, pulling apart a small peice of his dinner roll, slipping it into his mouth.

“nothing papa. just tired i think. not really used to the time difference again.”

-

the kitchen smells like sugar, butter, and lemon zest. thick and warm in the morning light streaming through the windows. you stand beside your grandmother at the granite counter, your hands dusted in flour as you work a soft, pliable ball of dough, rolling it carefully under her watchful gaze. the little puffs of flour catch the light as they float lazily to the counter, turning the morning into something hazy and dreamlike. outside, the morning doves are already humming, and the breeze carries the faintest whiff of honeysuckle through the cracked window above the sink.

“not too thin now, dear.” your grandmother says gently, leaning over to inspect your work. her hair is pinned back neatly, and there’s a streak of flour on her cheek that she hasn’t noticed.

“these tarts need some structure, or they’ll fall apart ‘fore they make it to the church. we can’t have a lock in with no tarts, honey.”

“yes, ma’am.” you mutter, suppressing a small smile as you focus on the dough, guiding it into perfect little circles for the tart shells.

the table is cluttered with bowls and ingredients. deep red raspberries, bright and glistening, piled in a pale ceramic dish; a glass juicer with lemon pulp still clinging to its grooves; a small jar of sugar, the lid left slightly askew. your grandmother moves around the kitchen like she always has. calm, methodical, humming a hymn under her breath as she fills the air with the scent of baking pastry. you help her spoon the tart mixture into the shells, carefully pressing a few raspberries into each before she slides them into the oven, her hands covered in oven mitts patterned with sunflowers.

while the tarts bake, she chats softly about who will be at the church service, about old friends and new faces, her voice lilting as if trying to bridge the years that you’ve been gone. it’s comforting, her easy way of speaking, and you let it wash over you as you wipe down the counters, the scent of caramelizing sugar growing richer by the minute.

“i really appreciate your help this mornin’.” her sweet voice fills the silence.

your grandfather appears in the doorway just as you’re checking the tarts, a small grin tucked beneath his mustache. hes holding a set of keys. old, scratched, and gleaming faintly in his calloused hand.

“got something for ya.” he says, the words light but carrying a weight that makes you stop mid-step.

your grandmother glances over her shoulder, smiling softly as if she’s been expecting this.

“go on, now. see what he’s got.”

you follow your grandfather outside, the morning sun already high and hot, the light pooling across the gravel driveway. parked just off to the side of the house is a truck—not new by any stretch of the imagination, but clean, its pale blue paint shining faintly in the sunlight. it’s an older model, rounded and boxy in that classic way, and you can see where he’s spent hours tinkering with it. fresh tires, a polished hood, the faint scent of oil and steel lingering in the air.

“you’re givin’ me this?” you ask, a little breathless.

“sure am.” he replies, pressing the keys into your palm with a nod that’s gruff but affectionate.

“i’ve been workin’ on it a few months now. runs smooth s’ever. figured you might want somethin’ to get around while you’re here.”

the gesture hits you harder than you expect, and you swallow against the sudden warmth building in your chest.

“thank you,” you say softly, running your fingers over the keys before looking back at him.

he pats your shoulder in that firm, no-nonsense way of his.

“you go on, take her for a spin. just don’t let it sit idle too long, y’hear?”

you decide you can’t possibly drive your new truck around town in the same pajama bottoms and rumpled tank top you’ve been in since morning. after a quick shower, you stand in front of the mirror in your childhood bedroom, brushing your hair as the sun filters softly through the lace curtains. you choose something easy. a flowy white sundress, the fabric soft against your skin, cinched at the waist, flaring out below. it’s the kind of dress that moves when you walk, catching the breeze and making you feel like youre floating. slipping on tan sandals and grabbing your sunglasses.

sliding into the truck feels surreal, the leather of the driver’s seat warm beneath your legs as you turn the ignition. the engine rumbles to life with a satisfying purr, and you grip the wheel with a grin you can’t quite suppress.

the drive into town is nothing short of idyllic. the windows are rolled down, the warm breeze tugging at your hair and the hem of your dress as you cruise past fields of tall grass and wildflowers. radio crackles softly, static giving way to an old country song you don’t recognize but hum along to anyway. the town comes into view slowly. a handful of streets lined with brick buildings, white picket fences, and storefronts with painted signs. it’s small and familiar, a place where everyone knows everyone, and yet it feels entirely new through your eyes.

you park the truck just off the main street, slipping the keys into your bag before heading toward the square. the town is quiet, but there’s enough movement to remind you that life trickles on here. people chatting on porches, kids weaving through alleys on their bikes, a group of guys sitting on the bed of an old truck parked near the general store.

you don’t notice them at first, too busy taking in the details of the place. but their voices, loud and lazy—drift over as you pass.

“well, well.” one of them drawls, amusement curling through the words.

“ain’t expect to see you all the way out here.”

you glance over sharply, your gaze landing on none other than him. eren jaeger. leaned back against the tailgate of the truck, his arms crossed and a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. his friends exchange looks that border on curious and entertained.

“didn’t expect you to talk to me.” you shoot back without missing a beat, stopping just a few feet away.

eren raises a brow, clearly enjoying this already.

“oh, don’t worry. i’m just surprised you’re not still sunbathing by the pond, princess.”

“princess? it’s yn to you. and all of you.” you repeat, folding your arms across your chest.

“also, big talk for someone who can’t even find full jeans.” your acrylic points to the dirty man-made holes decorating the boys jeans.

that earns you a snort of laughter from one of his friends, but eren just tilts his head slightly, the smirk never faltering.

“guess you’re still mad about yesterday. why you so upset at me, darlin’?”

“mad? please.” you say, rolling your eyes. “nothing even happened.”

“mmh. sure you aren’t.” he says, pushing off the tailgate to stand up fully, his height a little more imposing up close. there’s something sharp about him. his voice, his gaze, but beneath it is something else, something less certain. you get the feeling he’s used to being looked at sideways, just like your grandparents warned you about.

“you always this charming, or is it just for me?” you ask, tipping your chin up slightly. eyes meeting his low green ones.

he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head as his friends snicker quietly behind him.

“you’re somethin’ else.” he mutters, more to himself than to you. turning on your heels, you rush to excape the uncomfortable encounter.

“see you around, princess.”

-

the next day stretches out slow and quiet. the house feels bigger without your grandparents, their absence leaving a stillness that clings to every corner. you’ve taken full advantage of the solitude, padding barefoot through the rooms in an oversized t-shirt and little else. the fabric brushes against your thighs as you move, worn soft with age, like an old friend. the back of the shirt reads something about a fishing derby from a year that predates you, and you’ve rolled the sleeves haphazardly up your shoulders, letting the collar slip wide against your collarbone.

you spend the morning lazing on the couch, your legs sprawled across the cushions as you flip halfheartedly through a book you aren’t really reading. somewhere outside, birds chatter, and the cicadas hum their slow, pulsing chorus.

it’s the kind of day where time feels like it doesn’t exist. you shuffle into the kitchen whenever you’re hungry, toast a bagel you don’t finish, drink lemonade straight from the pitcher, and leave the radio on low just to fill the silence. some soft, crooning voice filters through the speakers, adding to the lazy weight of the afternoon.

you’re perched on the arm of the couch, knees drawn up to your chest, flipping through an old fashion magazine you found tucked in a drawer when the knock comes, sharp and sudden against the door.

it startles you, your head snapping up as the noise echoes through the quiet house. the second knock follows quickly, impatient this time. you glance toward the clock on the wall, but it’s no help, just another reminder that time isn’t real today.

frowning, you slide off the couch, tugging the hem of your t-shirt self-consciously as you head toward the door. the knob feels cool beneath your fingers as you pull it open just far enough to see who it is.

and there he is.

eren, standing on your grandparents’ front porch like he belongs there, though his posture suggests otherwise. hes got one hand braced against the doorframe, his other hooked loosely in the pocket of his jeans. a thin white t-shirt clings to him in the heat, faint smudges of dirt streaked across the fabric like he’s been working outside all day. his dark hair looks even messier than it did before. some tucked into the cowboy hat, other strands falling over his forehead and curling faintly from the humidity.

for a moment, he doesn’t say anything, his gaze catching on your bare legs before he flicks his eyes up to meet yours. his expression shifts, something unreadable dancing just beneath the surface. you realize too late how you must look: hair messy, t-shirt oversized and sliding off your shoulder, a little breathless from having rushed to the door.

“what?” you say finally, crossing your arms over your chest as if that might protect you from the way he’s looking at you.

“nice greeting.” he says dryly, his voice low and a little rough around the edges.

“well, you did show up uninvited.” you shoot back, arching a brow.

“what do you want?”

eren exhales through his nose, almost like he’s amused but trying not to show it.

“your grandparents asked me to stop by. said there’s a busted pipe in the barn and they didn’t want to wait until they got back to fix it.”

you frown, leaning your shoulder against the doorframe.

“and they sent you?”

“clearly.” his lips twitch, the hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“believe it or not, i know how to do more than just piss you off.”

you roll your eyes, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

“well, the barn’s out back. you know where it is. the big. red. building.”

“i do. smartass.” he says, but he doesn’t move, and there’s a spark of something in his eyes. mischief, maybe. that makes you suddenly aware of just how much skin your t-shirt doesn’t cover.

“what?” you ask again, sharper this time.

“nothing.” he shrugs, the movement lazy as he pushes off the doorframe and takes a step back.

“just didn’t peg you for the type to lounge around in your underwear all day. but what do i know? you wore a bikini outside.”

heat flashes across your cheeks instantly, and you grip the edge of the door tighter.

“it’s not underwear, creep. it’s comfortable.”

“sure.” he says, smirk fully formed now as he starts toward the barn, hands tucked into his pockets.

“looks real… comfortable.”

you slam the door before he can say anything else, the wood rattling in the frame.

“asshole.” you mutter under your breath, but your voice is drowned out by the sound of his boots on the gravel, his laughter carrying faintly through the cracked window.

the hum of the radio drifts on, and sunlight still slants through the windows, but something about the space feels restless now. like the air has been disturbed and won’t settle again. you find yourself standing by the door, chewing your lip and staring at nothing in particular.

it’s curiosity, you decide. that’s all it is. you’re just curious about him. about the boy who showed up at your door unannounced, dripping sarcasm like it’s second nature, as though he thrives on pressing your buttons. that’s why, after pacing the kitchen once or twice, you tug on a pair of shoes and head outside.

the barn stands at the back of the property, worn and familiar, its paint faded and roof patched with tin that glints under the afternoon sun. the gravel crunches beneath your feet as you cross the yard, your shadow stretching long ahead of you. you can hear him before you see him. something clattering against metal, followed by a low muttered curse that drifts out through the open barn doors.

you pause just outside, peeking around the corner. eren is crouched low near the base of a wooden post, his toolbox spread out beside him, sleeves shoved up to his elbows. sweat glistens faintly along the line of his neck, dark hair curling slightly against his temple, though he seems too focused on whatever he’s fixing to notice you.

“i hope you don’t talk to the pipes like that.” you say, stepping into the doorway.

eren glances up sharply, his eyes narrowing as soon as he sees you.

“what are you doing in here?”

“just checking on you.” you lean against the frame, arms crossed, the hem of your t-shirt fluttering faintly in the breeze.

“you could be in here stealing, for all I know.”

he snorts, turning back to the pipe.

“yeah, im gonna steal an old tractor and a pile’a hay. that’ll really set me up for life.”

“you’ve got the attitude for it.” you shoot back.

eren doesn’t respond right away, just reaches into his toolbox and pulls out a wrench, testing the pipe with a faint metallic screech. you take the opportunity to wander further into the barn, your bare legs brushing against the dust-speckled air, the smell of earth and old wood thick in your nose.

“don’t distract me.” he mutters after a moment, though there’s no real heat in it.

“distract you from what?” you ask, looking over your shoulder at him.

“you seem like you know what you’re doing.”

“i do.” he replies quickly, then pauses to glance up at you again, that familiar edge of sarcasm tugging at his voice.

“but I don’t need you hovering over me like a supervisor.”

“im not hovering.” you say, wandering toward the ladder that leads up to the loft. You trail your fingers along a beam as you go, the wood rough and splintered beneath your touch.

“im just… observing.”

“observing me.” he corrects, the corner of his mouth twitching.

you shrug, tilting your head to look at him.

“maybe. you’re hard to figure out.”

“well… why are ya tryin’ t’figure me out?” he fires back, turning his full attention to you now. his gaze is sharp, but there’s something behind it. something curious, like he’s trying to pick you apart the same way you’re doing to him.

you hesitate, feeling your face heat up despite yourself.

“im just bored.”

“bored ?” eren repeats, his voice dry.

“well, sorry im not here to entertain you, princess.”

you bristle at the nickname, pushing off the beam to face him fully.

“will you quit calling me that?”

“what?” he says, smirking now. “does it bother you?”

“obviously.”

“good.” he huffs a quiet laugh under his breath, shaking his head as he goes back to the pipe, adjusting the wrench with a sharp twist. the muscles in his forearm flex with the movement, beads of sweat dripping from his body.

“you’re insufferable.” you mutter, rolling your eyes as you turn and start to climb the ladder to the loft. the wood creaks faintly under your hands and feet, but you ignore it, needing to put a little distance between you and him.

“where are you going?” he calls from below, sounding more amused than anything.

“away from you!” you shout back, hoisting yourself onto the loft and brushing the dust from your knees. the space is dim, beams of sunlight filtering through the slats in the walls, catching on cobwebs and hay strewn across the floor. you sink down near the edge, letting your legs dangle as you glance back down at him.

“don’t worry. i won’t distract you from all your hard work.”

eren glances up at you with a look that’s half exasperation, half something else. he stands, tossing the wrench back into his toolbox with a faint clatter.

“or you could just gone back in the house. you’re a real piece’a work, you know that?”

“you’re one to talk.” you shoot back, swinging your feet slightly.

“you act like you hate me, but you keep showing up.”

“i don’t hate you and i keep showing up for your folks, not you.” he mutters, scrubbing the back of his hand across his forehead as he looks away.

“you just talk too much.”

“and you’re just cranky.”

he lets out a soft laugh, one that seems to surprise even him. when he looks back at you, his expression is different, though it’s hard to tell in the dappled light of the barn.

“you don’t know anything about me.” he says finally, his voice quieter this time.

you tilt your head, studying the man below you.

“maybe not. but I know you’re not as bad as everyone says you are.”

eren stiffens slightly at that, his jaw ticking as he averts his gaze. for a moment, the only sound is the wind pressing against the barn, rattling the boards, and the distant hum of cicadas.

“you don’t know that either. and what about you, huh? showing’ up outta nowhere. bein’ as bossy as you are?” he says eventually, his tone flat.

“im a pretty good judge of character. and i used to live here. a lot changes in fifteen years.”

he scoffs, but there’s no real bite to it.

“you’re annoying.”

“and yet you’re still here.” you say, letting a smile creep onto your face.

the loft creaks beneath you, but you don’t think much of it at first. it’s old, worn by years of weight and weather, and the barn itself seems to hum with the memory of its age. eren is below, fiddling with his toolbox, muttering curses under his breath as he wrestles with some stubborn pipe or post. you’re perched on the edge of the loft, legs dangling as you watch him, not bothering to hide your smirk.

“you’re taking forever.” you tease, your voice carrying through the barn.

eren pauses, glancing up with an annoyed glare.

“if you think you can do it faster, darlin’ , be my guest.”

“oh, i didn’t say that.” you reply, leaning back with a huff of satisfaction.

“i’m just observing how inefficient you are.”

he mutters something under his breath, shaking his head, and you’re about to push his buttons again when the sharp sound of splintering wood freezes you. the beam beneath you gives a slow, aching groan. erens head shoots up, noticing the lift giving in right where you sat.

you don’t have time to react. the wood cracks loudly, shattering the stillness, and suddenly you’re falling.

it happens in a rush. your stomach lurching, air rushing past you, hands scrambling for anything to grab. you hit something solid but not the ground. the impact knocks the wind out of you, but there are arms around you, holding you tightly.

“jesus christ!” eren’s voice cuts through the chaos, sharp and alarmed. “are you stupid?”

your brain catches up slowly, heart still slamming against your ribs as you look up to find eren staring down at you. his face is just inches from yours, his arms wrapped firmly around you where he caught you before you could hit the floor.

“i—” you start to say, but the words catch in your throat.

eren lets out a breath, long and shaky, as he lowers you carefully to the barn floor. his hands linger at your sides, steadying you. “are you okay?”

you try to nod, but then you feel it. the sharp, searing pain radiating up your leg. you wince, shifting slightly, and his eyes dart downward.

“you’re hurt.” he says flatly.

“no, i’m fine,” you lie, but as soon as you move your leg, the pain worsens. you look down to see a gash along your shin, blood streaking your skin where the wood must have splintered against you.

eren notices immediately.

“shit-” he mutters, reaching for you before you can protest. “don’t move.”

“eren, i’m fine,” you insist, but your voice wavers when you try to put weight on your leg.

“yeah, sure you are,” he shoots back, already scooping you up before you can argue. his arms slide beneath your knees and back, lifting you effortlessly.

“stop squirming, unless you wanna make this worse.”

you freeze, stunned at the way he carries you, like you weigh nothing at all. his face is set, focused, though you swear you can see a flicker of concern beneath the irritation.

“you don’t have to carry me.” you mumble, feeling heat creep up your neck.

he doesn’t look at you. “and what, let you drag yourself back to the house? don’t be stupid. now imma have to fix up the loft.”

the walk back to the house feels longer than usual, the silence stretching between you save for the crunch of his boots against the dirt. you steal glances at him—at the way his brow furrows in concentration, at the way his arms flex slightly beneath your weight. his grip is careful, like he’s afraid of jostling you too much.

“you’re really dramatic, you know.” you say quietly, trying to lighten the mood.

eren snorts, glancing down at you with a raised brow.

“me? you’re the one who decided to fall through the damn barn.”

“it wasn’t a choice.” you mutter, pouting slightly.

“whatever you say, princess.”

he carries you through the front door like it’s nothing, kicking it open with his boot before setting you down gently on the couch. the shift makes you wince, and he notices, crouching beside you immediately.

“last door on the left, under the sink.”

“stay put.” he says, voice low but firm, before disappearing into the bathroom.

you sigh, leaning your head back against the cushions as the adrenaline starts to wear off, leaving behind nothing but the dull ache in your leg and the embarrassment settling deep in your chest.

when eren comes back, he’s holding the first aid kit and a damp towel. he drops onto the floor in front of you, his knees brushing the edge of the couch as he sets everything down.

“this might sting.” he warns, wetting the towel before carefully pressing it to your shin.

you hiss through your teeth, nails curling into the couch cushion. “you could be a little gentler, you know.”

“i am being gentle.” he says, though his tone lacks its usual bite. he works quickly, cleaning the blood and dirt from the scrape before carefully dabbing it dry.

you watch him quietly as he unwraps a roll of gauze, his movements surprisingly careful, his expression softer than you’ve seen before.

“you didn’t have to do all this.” you say softly.

eren doesn’t look up, focused on securing the bandage.

“yeah, well. you’re not exactly good at taking care of yourself.”

“is that your way of saying you care?”

he pauses for half a second, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. the look he gives you is unreadable, but there’s something there. something warm.

“just… don’t do anything stupid like that again.” he mutters, his gaze dropping back to the bandage.

you bite back a smile, watching as he finishes and sits back on his heels. his hands linger on your leg for a moment, testing to make sure the gauze is secure before he finally stands.

“thanks.” you say quietly, your voice soft.

eren just shrugs, grabbing the first aid kit and standing to his full height. “don’t mention it.”

you try to mimic his movements, grabbing onto the arm of the couch for support until the pain shoots you right back down. eren wastes no time meeting you at eye level again, frowing a little.

“you need to stay put. stop being so damn hardheaded, yn.”

“finally you use my name.” his eyes burn deep holes into yours, brown chunks of hair framing his face.

“eh. i still like princess.”

he pauses, just for a second, as if he’s considering something. then he turns, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath hitch.

“both are real pretty though.” he mutters, but his voice is quieter now, softer. there’s an edge of something else there, something that’s hard to place.

you feel your heart pick up, and before you can even process the thought, before you can even think to stop him, he’s closing the space between you. his hand comes to rest gently on the side of your face, and then, with surprising tenderness, he leans in. the kiss is slow, hesitant at first. just a brush of lips against yours. but it deepens quickly, and for a moment, it feels like time itself is holding its breath. maybe you were holding your breath. his hand curls around the back of your neck, and you instinctively lean into him, eyes fluttering shut as the warmth of his lips presses against yours, soft and urgent.

the kiss is over almost as soon as it started, and when he pulls back, his face is so close to yours that you can feel his breath on your skin. his eyes are dark, a little unsure, but there’s something raw there too.

“eren?” you whisper, breathless, unsure of what to say, what to do with the sudden surge of emotions.

he doesn’t speak at first, just looks at you like he’s trying to figure you out. his fingers linger against your skin for a second too long before he pulls away, stepping back.

“um, guess i’ll get going then.” he says, voice low, almost like he’s unsure of himself for the first time.

he basically rushes out the front door, leaving you with a bloody gauze pad wrapped around your shin and a sense of confusion.

-

the farmer’s market buzzes softly with life. the air smells of ripe peaches and freshly baked bread, and the sunlight filters through the trees, dappled and golden. you weave through the crowd, your basket swinging lightly on your arm, filled with a small loaf of sourdough and a jar of honey. it’s your favorite part of the week, wandering between the stalls, picking out produce and listening to the steady murmur of the townsfolk.

you’ve got a small crumpled list tucked into your hand: oat milk, a jar of honey, maybe some fresh greens, and you’re weaving your way through the market when you spot him. eren. he’s standing with a man you can only assume is his father. the resemblance is impossible to miss: the sharpness of the jawline, the same dark hair, though his father’s is streaked with gray, and the way they both carry themselves. quiet and a little standoffish. they’re posted at a vegetable stand, crates of carrots, onions, and cucumbers spread out before them. eren’s arms are crossed as he listens to something his father says, his brow furrowed like he’s only half paying attention.

something about the way eren glances around, almost restless, makes you hesitate. you watch for a beat longer, tucked slightly behind another booth, debating whether to approach. but then eren looks up, and his gaze lands on you. for a second, he’s still, his face unreadable. then his eyes shift slightly, narrowing, and it almost feels like he’s warning you.

you step forward anyway, hobbling a little on your sore leg.

“eren.” you say, your voice soft but steady. his name feels strangely loud against the background chatter, and both he and his father turn to look at you.

eren’s face tightens slightly, but he doesn’t look away. his father, on the other hand, gives you a long, slow once-over, his sharp green eyes cutting into you with a coolness that makes your chest tighten.

“who’s this?” his father asks, his tone mild but clipped, like the words have edges.

“yn, sir.” you offer quickly, stepping closer and giving him a polite smile.

“i’ve been staying with my grandparents for the spring. i’ve seen eren around, so i thought i’d introduce myself. he helps around a lot.”

you hold out your hand, but his father doesn’t take it. instead, he leans forward slightly, resting his forearms on the booth’s counter, his gaze steady and unwavering.

“introducing yr’self, huh?” he says, his voice light, almost amused, but there’s something underneath it, something just sharp enough to make your stomach flip.

“not many of the town folk bother to stop by our booth, let’lone introduce themselves. guess you must be curious.”

you pull your hand back awkwardly, your smile faltering as you glance at eren.

“i just thought it would be nice, sir. i apologize.” you reply, trying to keep your voice even.

“your vegetables do look great.”

his father lets out a soft huff of a laugh, barely more than an exhale.

“yeah, they do, don’t they? we put a lotta work into this land. more than most people around here would know.”

eren shifts beside him, his jaw tightening.

“dad.” he mutters under his breath, but his father doesn’t even glance at him.

“you stayin’ with the wrights?” his father asks, tilting his head slightly.

“figured. they’re good people, always minding their own business. shame not everyone in town does the same.”

you blink, the words settling in your chest like stones. there’s no malice in his tone, not directly, but the weight of them is unmistakable.

eren’s hand comes up to rub the back of his neck, his shoulders tense.

“she’s just trying to be nice.” he says, his voice low, almost resigned, like he knows it won’t make a difference.

his father finally straightens, dusting his hands off on his jeans.

“nice is fine-” he says, glancing at you again. “-but not everyone ‘round here is friendly as they seem. might be worth ‘membering.”

the air between you feels tight, uncomfortable, and you’re not entirely sure if his words are meant as advice or something closer to a warning. you force another smile, even though your face feels stiff, and take a small step back.

“well, it was nice meeting you.” you say, your voice a little quieter now.

“i’ll let you both get back to work.”

eren looks at you then, his lips pressing together like he wants to say something but can’t. his father, however, just gives you a small, curt nod.

“have a good day, darlin’.” he says, the words clipped and formal.

you turn quickly, your cheeks burning, and make your way back into the flow of the market. the cheerful voices and warm sunlight feel duller now, muted by the lingering tension.

it’s not until you’ve stopped by another stall, pretending to inspect a bunch of lavender, that you feel eren’s presence beside you. you glance up, and there he is, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his face pulled into a scowl.

“sorry about him.” he mutters, his voice low. “he’s… he’s just like that.”

you shrug, trying to act like it didn’t bother you, though the knot in your stomach hasn’t quite eased.

“it’s fine.” you say softly, but the look he gives you says he doesn’t believe you.

for a moment, neither of you speaks. the market swirls around you, full of life and sound, but between you, there’s only a quiet tension. finally, eren sighs, tilting his head toward the edge of the market.

“come on,” he says. “let’s get out of here.”

-

you’ve learned to move quietly, to slip through the back door of the house when no one’s looking, to meet him at the edge of the woods by the lake when the sun has set and the stars are just beginning to prick the sky. everything feels like it’s wrapped in silence, soft and secretive. even the air between you seems charged with something unspoken, something thrilling. for two weeks.

he was addictive.

soft whispers under your large quilts as his lips traced kisses from your neck to lips. engulfing you in a warm embrace. wind blowing through the windows he snuck into.

he loved seeing you drive past him casually in your truck while picking up groceries for your grandmother. watching your hair whip in the wind and the low hum of the trucks engine passing by.

when you and him sat in his living room, playing with the golden lab he named ‘scout’ when he was four. your fingers comb through his mane, tilting your face upwards to avoid from being licked by the drooling animal.

whenever your grandparents gave him yet another daunting task around the farm, he’d watch as your sprawled out in a bikini. sipping the sweet tea, beach hat shading your face. watching as the droplets of water dripped down your chest. he’d hate to admit how many times he’s almost nailed his hands to the barn.

“you okay over there?” your arm, half up in a wave, drawling his attention from your new position. you lay on your chest, slowly pulling at the strings holding your top up. letting them dangle off the side of the chair, you slide the waistline of your bottoms down a little.

“eren! why don’t you come have some lemonade with me?”

you were driving him nuts.

he loved how lively you would get after spending the afternoons in a tiny, quaint bar located on the outskirts of town.

the drives back usually consisting of you halfway out the passenger window, eyes gazing up at the sky as you took advantage of the open landscape. eren would watch you intensely, eyes bouncing from the road back to you.

pulling into erens dirty path driveway, he pulls your body across the long front seat, carefully tucking his arms under your knees and around your back.

“im not drunkk!” you whine, face buried into the crook of the man’s neck while he places you down softly on the dark leather couch. closing his front door, his hand runs through his brown locs with an exasperated sigh.

“you need to sober up so i can take you home, yn. i ain’t trynna deal with a angry mob of old church people.” his height blinds out everything in your path as he stands over you. his large hands cup your face gently.

“boy im grown, come here.” you whisper, pulling him down by the forearm, eyes never leaving his. green eye flicker from your eyes to your glossed lips. your essence was like a gravitational pull.

lips locked onto one another, you can’t help but to notice he much softer his lips have gotten.

“you been exfoliating?”

“i’on know what that is, shut up and kiss me.”

it was hungry. borderline filthy the way his hands rubbed you down slowly. caressing the dips of your waist, cold jewelry slides across your stomach, hitching your breath. the tank top you wore stood no chance. brown nipples poking through the sheer cotton fabric.

hes smiling. feeling his hands roam you so freely. he couldn’t help but to take his thumbs and pointer fingers, slipping them into his mouth and out with a quick pop! going back under your shirt, he takes your perky buds in between his fingers, rolling them slowly as the rest of his hands cup your breast.

“oh! eren- oh my god.”

his lips pepper kisses all over your exposed skin, nipping at spots before kissing over the pain. hands roam down to your thighs, giving them tight grips before sliding down the couch.

eyes latched onto each other, you can’t help but to whine.

“please eren.”

this was the first time in years you’ve felt this strong of an attraction towards someone else. crazy for it to be eren of all people.

“please, what?” he’s slowly tugging at the drawstrings of the shorts you wore. eyes locked on you with a burning passion. sitting up against the arm of the couch, your shorts make it to the other side of the room.

your jaw is wide , eren hissing when you tug at his long brown locks. the moment he’s sliding his middle fingers into your burning core, stretching you open as his thumb slowly teases your clit. his body proceeding lower, all you can feel is slight gust of air hitting your cunt. his lips wrap gently around the swollen bud, sucking agonizingly slow, saliva and slick stick to the man’s face. he hums into your taste, wrapping his arms around the base of your thighs. he laid fully out on the couch.

instantly, you’re falling apart. moans breaking out in short whimpers and high gasps, grinding into his palm and nose. feeling his tongue slip inside your clenching hole, only to add two of his slender fingers.

his fingers scissor up into your throbbing cunt, hitting your sweet spot.

“babyy” you whimper, barely able to get anything out with the man’s face devouring you below. eyes closed in euphoria and concentration. hands interlocked into his head full of hair, your moans grow louder.

“doin’ such a good fuckin’ job, princess.”

feeling how he used his thumbs to spread open your pussy, using his tongue to penetrate your clenching hole. his tongue dips into you, coating his tongue in your cum, before coming back out and circling your swollen bud. the repetitive sensation sends you into a fit of louder moans, enticing the man to keep going.

“oh! ba- fu,fuck eren! im fucking c-“ the pressure builds, coiling tighter in your abdomen until you can't hold back anymore. not even when you’re cumming all over the man’s face, does he stop. he wants more now. he needs more.

from the first day he saw you out by the water, he knew he wanted you for himself. he watched the way you interacted with the townsfolk and farm animals. how sexy you were effortlessly. walking around your grandparents farm with nothing but a bikini on and practically see through shorts.

he hated to see other men in town look at you. the way the old, decrepit men would sit in the farmers markets and watch you browse around. whispering to each other while you naively chose your fruits and vegetables.

he didn’t want to share you with anyone.

his body jolts to a standing position, with ease he’s dipping down to pick you up off the couch. a large wet spot decorated the leather where you lie. he’s carrying you over his shoulder down the narrow hallway of the house.

“where we goin’?” you ask, eyes low and hazy.

you make it to the well decorated room. posters and band prints scattered on the wall , a radio sat in the corner, humming random songs from the station eren left it on. his bed was royal blue and well kept.

that was until you were being pounded into the bed.

you nails grip for anything they can reach. digging straight into the bed set, while his throbbing cock dips in and out of you. he has your right leg thrown over his shoulder, hands pinned to your waist as he draws out. face twisting in pleasure. his dick coated in the slippery substance, a faint white line forming the base of his cock as he moves in and out of you repeatedly .

“makin’ such a mess on me. pretty fuckin girl.”

he waste no time, throwing your other leg over his shoulder, locking you in as he quickens his pace. shallow breaths escape his mouth, eyes locked in concentration. you’re stuck with your mouth in an -o- shape as the man pounds you relentlessly. with a swift pull out, he taps against your side.

“on your knees, princess.”

on all fours, he wastes no time reinserting himself, bottoming out while his nails dig into the supple skin on your waist. the sound of skin slapping together and the wet squelches of your abused cunt bounce off the walls, filling your ears.

“i’ve wanted you for so long, you’re so good to me- fuck!”

the more your honey coated words fall from your lips, the more the man wants to ruin you. he wants to see you beg for him. he needed to have it.

pulling your arms from under you, he pins them to your back, locking you in an unforgiving arch. he feeds you slow, agonizing pleasing, strokes. loved watching the way your pussy desperately gripped around him as he pulled out.

trying your hardest to escape the abuse of your cervix, you try to pull away, only to receive a fire fueled spank on your ass.

“take this dick, baby. you had all that mouth ‘member? you can do it, i know ya can.”

his pace quickens, yearning for your release. the only thing you can form is small gasps of air as the man shows no mercy on your smaller frame.

“eren! oh shit- im cumming again ple-“

he releases your hands, using his free hand to rub at your clit as he continued fucking into you.

your body goes limp, clear liquid spewing out onto the man’s blankets. he flips you back over, eyes dark and full of hunger still.

“gimme just one more? please, honey. she just so good.”

folded into a middle split off the bed wasn’t something you ever thought you could do. yet here you were, on your back, eren standing in front of you, holding your legs apart.

his hips roll into yours, digging at your inside slowly. head tilted to the side, eyebrows furrowed and eyes low. your hands hold onto his muscular forearm, trying to keep grounded as the man was wearing you out.

with a few more thrust, he pulls out. long white ropes decorate his chest.

“you’re something special, yn.”

-

after your grandparents had gone into town for their usual errands, you find yourself at the edge of the lake, hidden in the soft embrace of the willow trees. the faint glow of fireflies flickers in the warm spring air, and the world feels still, like it’s holding its breath for what’s to come. eren’s there before you, waiting, leaning against a tree with a smile that always makes your stomach flip.

“thought you’d never show up,” he teases, his voice low and smooth, like it’s a secret only meant for you. his eyes flicker over you, and the corner of his mouth pulls into a crooked grin.

“you just like being dramatic,” you reply, though you can feel the flutter in your chest as you walk closer, the pull between you too strong to ignore.

he steps forward, closing the space between you, and before you can say anything else, his lips are on yours. quick, soft, the kind of kiss that leaves you breathless. it’s always like this, quick, a rush of feeling that neither of you can seem to contain. he pulls away just as quickly, his forehead resting against yours, breath mingling with yours in the cool night air.

“you’re insane.” you whisper, though you can’t hide the smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

he grins, taking your hand and guiding you down the worn path toward the lake. the grass brushes against your bare legs, soft and cool under the fading light. the blanket he’s spread out by the water is a patchwork of colors. faded reds and yellows that look almost too bright against the darkening sky.

you settle down beside him, the scent of wildflowers heavy in the air. the lake reflects the dimming stars, the quiet ripples in the water mirroring the racing of your heart.

“y’know. ive been havin’ a lot of fun with you.” he playfully nudges your body, rocking you to the side.

“i know. imma miss you, country boy.” the fake southern accent rolled off your tongue sarcastically. although the tone was funny, something about erens aura shifted.

“what’s up? why’ve you gone all quiet?” you ask, eyes fixated on the male. the moonlight illuminated his face, exposing every freckle, unshaven parts of his face, and his eyes locked onto yours.

“i jus’ really don’t wanna let you go, princess.”

“don’t go all sappy on me now. i’ll visit when i can, you know that right?” he just nods, taking a drink of the beer he had before your arrival. the air was thick and warm, your knees pressed together, watching the water reflect the bedazzled night sky as eren just shuffles in his spot.

“yn, promise ya wont forget me?”

“eren-“ you try to stop the conversation before it happens. instead ending up in a tight hug from the man. his arms latch around your waist, head resting over your shoulder.

“im serious, yn. i ain’t ever felt this way for nobody.” pulling away, all you can see is his bright green eyes burning into yours.

“how could i ever?”

you lean in, your free hand brushing against his jaw as you kiss him. it’s slow, deliberate, and familiar, yet it feels new in the way it sends warmth flooding through you.

his hand comes up to cup the back of your neck, his touch firm but gentle as he deepens the kiss, like he’s trying to hold onto the moment for as long as he can. the world around you fades. the quiet lap of the water against the shore, the soft hum of the crickets. until there’s nothing but him.

when you finally pull back, your foreheads rest together, your breaths mingling in the cool night air. eren’s thumb brushes over the curve of your jaw, and his lips curl into a small, almost sheepish smile.

“you ever thought about visiting the city?”

© vantetaes. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarize any of my works. ageless/blank blogs dni.

random inspo pics at the bottom? yes!

[katsukistofu]

pls write more megumi!!!! i love how you wrote your recent fic ugh hes so perfecttttt

your wish is my command <3 tysm for enjoying sweetheart i’m glad you liked it ! :)

here comes the sun

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ m. fushiguro x fem reader. fluff. ★ car rides are more bearable when they’re with you.

It’s barely five minutes into the drive and Megumi’s already thinking that Itadori needs to have his license revoked. For life.

His hand darts over to cup the side of your head with a gentle yet firm grip, almost reflexively at this point, stopping you from hurling into the sidedoor after a particularly nasty jostle, for the third curse-forsaken time in a row.

“I think you missed running over a curb back there.” Megumi says dryly in the direction of the front seat.

A cool, summer breeze ruffles his hair as he carefully readjusts your head so instead of lolling to the side, it’s resting on his shoulder. There. That should be much more comfortable for you.

“Hey!” Itadori protests, hands a bit shaky on the wheel. He’s wearing pajama pants with little Spider-mans on them. “I’ve never been in a fancy car without a roof. I’m just getting used to her, that's all.”

“Her?”

“Yeah. Donna.”

Megumi arches a brow. “You named the car.”

“I mean that’s what sensei called her.”

“…Of course he did.”

“Can you two shut up?” Nobara hisses. She’s clad in her own Powerpuff Girl pajamas and Her eyes are still covered by the pink sleep mask that came as a matching set with your pants but you gave it to her instead . “We’re trying to sleep.”

“You are. She’s been knocked out.” Itadori points at you, who’s clinging onto Megumi’s arm like a koala.

“Only because I made sure you wouldn’t wake her up with your shitty driving.” Megumi scowls, curling a protective arm around your waist as the car swerves a little too far left for his liking. His Batman pajama pants brush against your Hello Kitty ones as his thigh bumps against yours, and if you were awake he knew you’d make a joke about them kissing.

“Eyes on the road, idiot.”

Itadori huffs and turns back around to face the wheel. Thankfully you’re still snoozing away, although the way you’re nuzzling into his neck is starting to make him feel a little warm.

Maybe he should have taken his jacket off and put it on top of your blanket.

They pass a herd of cows and Megumi can’t help the upward tug of his lips, remembering your excited squeals when they passed one earlier just an hour ago, chanting ‘Gumi look, Gumi look!’

“I see them,” he had said, more focused on readjusting your seat belt that had somehow unbuckled itself.

With a grin you pointed to a pair that was grazing near a patch of berry bushes. “Those two kind of look like us.”

He finally looks up after making sure you’re safely fastened, hand still softly resting on your waist.

“You’re right, one looks like it doesn’t even know it’s eating grass.”

The pleasant memory of your giggles are drowned out and he narrows his eyes as of course, Itadori and Nobara choose that moment to crank up the radio. It’s a band he never cared for, but remembers the name of along with the lyrics to a few songs because he knows they’re your favorite.

“Turn. It. Down.” Megumi mouths at them, but it’s too late and you’re already starting to blearily open your eyes. The boy that has you tucked beside him sighs in defeat.

On your side of the car, the sun is starting to set and it casts a soft, golden glow like a blanketed halo on your cheekbones down to the tip of your nose, to your cute lips. The rays caress your face in a way he only does in the privacy of his room, with you gently pinned underneath him.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” Itadori grins, handing his phone to you. “Can you check if I’m going the right way real quick?”

You lean forward and blink against Megumi’s strong arm that’s suddenly in front of you, still half-asleep.

“Don’t tell her to do it, dipshit, she just woke up.” He glares at Itadori, taking the phone from him instead and taps the screen a few times. With his head leaning to the other side once he rests back into his seat, he wordlessly makes space for you to rest yours on his shoulder again and you do so happily.

“You were supposed to make a U-turn ten minutes ago.” Megumi deadpans as you yawn, still drowsy from your nap.

“Oh fuck.”

The four of you are finally at the picnic site, after what seems like driving for hours.

“Megumi!” You bound up to him like an overexcited puppy, and he bites back a laugh at your eagerness to show him whatever you found. “Close your eyes.”

If it was Itadori or Nobara, he would have definitely asked “Why?” before they pulled another one of their endless pranks on him but since it's you, he shuts them.

There’s a cool sensation that glides against his ear, and he realizes it’s a petal. You’re tucking a flower into his hair, you must’ve found it under the tree where they parked. His eyes flutter open and he’s met with your familiar, adoring stare that never fails to twist his stomach into knots.

“It’s a peach blossom. Pretty, um, like you.” You mumble, suddenly shy as he gazes down at you with the barest hint of a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

No one’s around, Itadori and Nobara have long gone to find the perfect spot to set down the blanket, and Megumi brushes a quick kiss to your temple.

“Thank you.”

The peace of the afternoon is short lived when he walks with you to meet up with Nobara and Itadori, who have somehow attracted a group of ducks from the nearby pond. One nips at Itadori’s butt, who narrowly manages to dodge it while Nobara is holding her Balenciaga purse high out of the feathered menaces reaches. “Stop that, this was almost two hundred thousand yen!”

Megumi rolls his eyes and barely manages to stifle a snort. He holds your own purse that he’s been carrying this whole time steady for you as you dig into it and whip a paper grocery bag out.

“I have lettuce, don't worry guys!”

His midnight blue eyes glint with fondness as they follow your figure when you bend down to feed the ducks and kindly lead them away from the food that’s sprawled out on the picnic blanket, talking to them like you would with a baby kitten.

Oh he’s going to kiss you breathless later.

Nobara and Itadori nearly fall to your feet. “Our savior!” They cry in unison and you laugh, patting them both on the back. Your best friend then gets up and smacks Itadori with the side of her bag.

“I told you we should have left the chips in the car! Those ducks could have choked to death and it’d all be your fault.”

Your other best friend pouts. “But they were pizza flavored, I wanted to savor them under the flowers!”

“Ew.” Nobara says, already shoving one of them in her mouth, and she holds another chip up to your lips for you to try. “They taste gross, right?”

You chew thoughtfully, and sneak your hand into the open bag to get a few to feed Megumi. “Hm. Could be better.”

“Yeah it's kind of lacking,” Megumi says, his soft lips brushing against your fingers as he takes his another cautious bite.

“Don’t you three say that with your mouth full!”

─────────

So the car got towed.

Gojo’s fuming and Megumi’s pretty sure he’s going to try grounding the four of you, but with a simple bribe of his favorite zunda and cream kikufuku courtesy of your culinary skills his forgiveness is easily attainable.

He absentmindedly wonders if you knead the delicious dough you make from scratch the same way you randomly pinch his cheeks.

The glow of the passing streetlights behind him reflects in your eyes like a thousand tiny, shooting stars and when he looks into them he swears he can see the Milky Way. They’re fighting to stay open after you tiredly slump onto the train’s last empty seat, sandwiched between Nobara and Itadori’s already dozing forms who were scrolling through nail art ideas with you just moments before as he occasionally made comments when you prompted him to, “Would look cute on you” and “That color’s nice” falling from his lips. His eyes soften as he looks at you.

“Gumi…” You softly murmur and his head perks up.

“Yeah?” He leans in closer to hear you, and bites back a chuckle as you mumble something unintelligible. “It’s okay, go to sleep. I’ll stand here and watch you guys.”

“M’kay. ‘Night ‘night, love you.” Is all you whisper before passing out.

“I love you too,” Megumi mutters under his breath, low enough so that it falls on no one else’s ears in the car. You can’t hear him because you fell asleep before you could, but he doesn’t care, he says it anyway and hopes that as his words linger in the air it brings you sweet dreams.

He notices the faint goosebumps on your thighs and takes off his jacket in one swift motion to cover your lap. You’re wearing a shorter skirt than usual today, and like hell he’d let you freeze because of the train’s air conditioning.

His burning eyes flick up from your unaware, adorably blissful face to shoot a scathing glare at the man who’s been glancing your way since you got on the train, and steps closer to shield you entirely from his view. The intimidated stranger looks away quickly, and a small, victorious smirk makes it way across his lips.

That’s right you were his girl, and he’s going to make damn sure everyone knows that.

[umadosedepascal]

MEET ME AT THE SET | Pedro Pascal X f!reader | one shot

Written by Santa Trindade

Banner by @missyorkswhore

Made in Brazil

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Summary: Pedro is THE GENERAL, babe!

wc: 1.3k

rating/warnings: [oral sex m receiving] [cum in mouth] [light fingering] [Overstimulation]

a/n: @missyorkswhore wrote her first solo fic by herself! Kudos to her!!! That’s what a horny gal does staring at new stills of Pedro in Gladiator II

The shootings has been intense, Pedro tells you by messages how busy and exhausting it is, they start recording as soon as the first rays of Sun appear and only at night he returns to the hotel.

This has been your relationship, messages, backstage pics and some calls during the night.

You miss him.

"I miss you, I hope you're having fun, General."

You send him a message, hours later his phone vibrates, it's already dawn, you pick up your phone, your eyes burning with the brightness of the screen.

"Hey, I miss you too. God, I'm exhausted and happy, I have good news! It's the last week of shooting, come here, we can enjoy a few days together. Are you coming?"

You smile and type a huge YES. You talk for a few minutes and Pedro sends your flight info and hotel to your email.

Three days later you are on your way to the set, Pedro couldn't pick you up at the airport, but arrange a car to take you immediately to the set.

You enter through the back of the set, producers and employees everywhere, and in the background you can see the huge arena they created, you feel as if you were in two eras, on your left ancient Rome, on your right the current world full of cameras, phones ringing and people walking back and forth.

You walk between the trailers, looking at the doors that indicate where each actor is, a few more steps and your eyes meet the sign "Pedro Pascal -Marcus Acacius" you knock on the door but your jaw drops as soon as the door is opened. Pedro has one hand on the door and the other on his hip. He is incredibly beautiful, a white outfit with golden details, the golden drawings highlighting the middle of the white armor. Your eyes go up to Pedro's face, he wears a golden laurel crown.

-Wow... sorry, I thought it was Pedro's dressing room...

Pedro laughs and pulls you by the hand

-No love, Pedro is unavailable at the moment, only General Acacius now.

He kisses you and you feel his taste, the taste you were searching for. His right hand goes to your waist pulling you against his body, his left hand on the back of your neck, lightly pulling your hair making your head tilt back.

-God, I missed that so much.

He murmurs as he runs his lips down your neck leaving soft bites that make you shiver and moan softly.

You push him until Pedro falls sitting in the armchair behind him, he smiles as he watches you kneel slowly at him.

-I heard that in ancient Rome after battles men went for a bath place, is this the name?

And they were very well taken care of... and you're so exhausted, aren't you general?

Pedro laughs softly and caresses his cheek with his fingers going down the sensitive skin of your neck, he nods and whispers

-Yes, so exhausted.

You run your hands down his legs, the skin hot, the muscles getting tense under the palms of your hand. You don't stop looking at him, seeing how his lips become half open, his eyes getting darker and darker.

You raise your hands until the tips of your fingers meet his underwear, feeling the heat of his cock.

You pull his underwear down, taking them off by the legs and throw them on the floor.

Pedro looks hypnotized, he smiles and you go up the fabric of his clothes until his cock is fully exposed, the wet pink tip, the lateral vein pulsating while he whispers.

-Is that what you want?

He smiles debauchedly.

You nod your head, your right hand holding by the base feeling it pulsating, Pedro's eyes close quickly. His breathing changes when you lick the drop that accumulates at the tip, his thumb goes up to your lips spreading the liquid, you suck his finger, biting and making Pedro gasp his hand going straight to your hair.

-Don't play with me like that or-

Before he can complete the sentence you put his cock in your mouth, as much as you can, his bittersweet taste on your tongue, the lateral vein pulsating, the unique smell of his skin invading your nostrils.

Pedro moans and you look at him and can't hold back the moan with what you see. Pedro with his eyes almost closed, his mouth open, his breath starting to get panting and the damn laurel wreath. He looks like a fucking Greek God.

You swallow it all feeling it hit your throat. Pedro lets his head fall back and a hoarse moan comes out of his throat, his hand grabs your hair firmly, conducting as he wants, how hard he wants to fuck his mouth.

You continue the up and down movements, swirling your tongue at the tip, you can't look away, his vision with the white armor.

Pedro takes his left hand to your head, both hands guiding you, making you take him so deeply.

He bites his lip, you know he wants to moan and curse, but now it takes a little silence, only small hoarse moans escape his lips, his eyes wandering between his mouth and his eyes.

-If it continues like this I'll cum in your mouth...fuck! - he moans loudly when he feels you masturbate him while your tongue passes through the tip provoking him, you whisper

-Is that what you want, general? - you gently run your tongue over the tip of his cock, provoking the sensitive skin that makes his legs tense.

Pedro growls and pushes his head making your mouth swallow his whole cock.

-Damn, yes...don't stop, please.

Pedro's right hand finds yours on the inner of his thigh, his fingers intertwining yours, while the left hand holds your hair, preventing the strands from hindering his vision of you sucking it.

You suck for a few more seconds until you feel Pedro squeezing your hand hard, his legs shaking, moans escaping from his lips, so low that they seem growling. You swallow every drop, licking until Pedro has spasms and pulls you to his lap.

He sticks his forehead to yours, panting, he kisses your lips pulling between his teeth and smiles.

-I missed you so much.

Pedro unbuttons your pants, his fingers dipping inside your panties and feeling how wet you are.

-Shit, I need to feel you on my tongue now.

He says while biting and licking your neck.

A knock on the door catches your attention, someone says that Pedro's scene is the next one to be shoot. He throws his head back, frustrated and you laugh.

-All right, go soon General... I'll be at the hotel waiting for you.

Pedro kisses you, his middle finger dives into your pussy and he takes it to his lips, sucking while moaning as if he were tasting the best dessert in the world.

-Now I can go...wait for me at the hotel, I'll be there in a few hours.

He kisses you, fixes the clothes wearing the underwear again. He looks at you and smiles, he hugs you and kisses your forehead and then your lips.

-I really missed you.

He turns around, puts on his sunglasses and opens the trailer door, and leaves.

You can't wait for the day to end.

——————————-

Thanks for being here and read our delusional fics, likes are appreciate, comments even more. If you want to ask anything, blast it!

[chheolie]

i think you might be a little disappointed that they are divorced, so here is the second part

it was a quiet morning, and the sun had barely risen on the horizon when you grabbed your phone to check the messages. as you swiped the screen, one notification caught your attention: "reminder: trip to the beach house - d/n’s birthday." your heart tightened as you read those words. the beach house had always been a special place, full of happy memories, but it also held painful ones, especially from the last trip where you and seungcheol were together as a couple. it was there that your relationship came to an end.

even so, you knew that this trip was important, especially for your daughter, who loved that place more than anywhere else. with a deep sigh, you decided to send a message to seungcheol, something you had been putting off for days, fearing what he might say.

"are you going on the trip?" you wrote, hesitantly, feeling the weight of uncertainty in your words.

minutes that felt like hours passed before his reply arrived. when the phone vibrated, you opened the message with a nervousness you couldn’t hide.

"yes, it’s important for her." his words were direct, but they carried a responsibility that both of you shared. although your marriage had ended, the love for your daughter continued to bind you together in an unbreakable way.

on the day of the trip, seungcheol arrived at your house to pick you up. your daughter, as excited as always, ran into her father’s arms with contagious joy. her smile upon seeing him left no doubt that this trip meant a lot to her. as you watched the scene, a mix of emotions washed over you. it was good to see them together, but his presence always brought back memories of what you had lost.

during the drive to the beach house, the atmosphere in the car was strange. your daughter talked nonstop, excited about the weekend plans, but you and seungcheol barely exchanged words. it was hard to ignore the weight of the past, especially knowing that the last time you were at that house as a family was also when you decided to go your separate ways.

when you finally arrived, your daughter ran inside the house, exploring each room as if it was her first time there. for her, that place would always be magical, full of good memories. you and seungcheol began unloading the car in silence, exchanging brief and uncomfortable glances. neither of you knew quite how to act. the silence was almost suffocating, and both seemed hesitant to say anything that might open old wounds.

the next morning, you woke up early, with the first rays of sunlight gently illuminating the house. there was a quiet stillness in the air, broken only by the soft sound of the waves. as you stepped out of the bedroom, you found seungcheol already awake, sitting on the porch with a cup of coffee in his hands. he seemed thoughtful, lost in his own thoughts. for a moment, you considered going back to the bedroom, but you decided to join him, feeling that perhaps it was the right time to talk about what you both had been avoiding for so long.

sitting beside him, you felt the weight of the silence between you, but also a strange sense of peace. the smell of coffee mixed with the salty sea breeze, creating a nostalgic atmosphere. it was then that memories of the last trip came flooding back. you looked out at the horizon, trying to find the right words.

"it was here that everything fell apart, wasn’t it?" your voice came out low, almost fearful, as if reliving that moment could bring back all the pain you had worked so hard to overcome.

seungcheol sighed deeply, without taking his eyes off the sea. "yes, it was here. and i still think about that day, about the things i could have done differently. not a day goes by without me asking myself where exactly things started to go wrong."

his words hit you in a way you didn’t expect. there was so much regret in his voice, a pain that mirrored your own. "i think about that too... about how everything could have been different. but i think that at the time, we were both so lost, trying to find our own way, that we ended up drifting apart. i felt so alone, even when you were around. like there was an invisible barrier between us."

he turned to you, his eyes showing a vulnerability he rarely let show. "i never wanted to make you feel that way, y/n. but i was so focused on work, on fulfilling all the responsibilities, that i ended up losing you in the process. i didn’t know how to handle the pressure, and it destroyed us."

before the conversation could deepen further, the soft sound of footsteps coming from the bedroom interrupted the moment. your daughter had woken up, bringing with her the vibrant energy of a child full of expectations for the day. seungcheol stood up with a smile, offering to take her for a walk while you stayed home, resting and processing everything that had been said.

hours later, when seungcheol and your daughter returned, you greeted them with a smile, noticing that they were carrying bags of food. your daughter ran up to you, her eyes shining with excitement. "mommy! look what we brought! we got your favorite dessert!" she exclaimed, barely able to contain her excitement.

you looked at seungcheol, who gave you a knowing smile, and felt a lump form in your throat. that simple gesture, but full of care, moved you in a way you didn’t expect. for a moment, all the repressed emotions came to the surface, and you found yourself struggling to hold back the tears. but it was useless. the tears began to fall, and you tried to disguise it, smiling at your daughter so she wouldn’t notice.

seungcheol noticed immediately and approached, concerned. "hey, are you okay?" he asked softly, his voice full of care as he reached out to hold your hand.

you nodded, though your voice faltered as you tried to respond. "yes... it’s just that... this means a lot to me. you both mean a lot to me."

he gently squeezed your hand, his eyes fixed on yours as if he wanted to say something but was choosing his words carefully. the moment was delicate, full of unspoken emotions and feelings that you both were trying to process.

the afternoon unfolded in a series of joyful and simple moments. you cooked together, played on the beach, and for a moment, everything felt like it used to. your daughter’s laughter echoed through the house, and you felt that maybe, just maybe, the weight of the past was finally starting to lift. the atmosphere was light, and it was hard to believe that just a few hours ago, you were so nervous about spending the weekend with him.

when the evening came, you prepared the small birthday party with all the love you could muster. your daughter was radiant, and the house was filled with laughter and music. the table was loaded with sweets and snacks that you had prepared together, and the cake, decorated in her favorite colors, sat in the center, waiting to be cut.

you sang "happy birthday," and the smile on your daughter’s face as she blew out the candles was the highlight of the night. she closed her eyes tightly, making a wish, and then, with a determined puff, blew out the candles. the applause and cheers of "hurray!" echoed through the house, and for a moment, everything seemed perfect. you and seungcheol exchanged glances during the celebration, and there was something in his eyes that you hadn’t seen in a long time—tenderness and affection that warmed your heart.

after dinner, with full bellies and light hearts, your daughter finally began to show signs of fatigue. she yawned and rubbed her eyes, making you and seungcheol laugh. "i think it’s time for bed, little one," you said softly, as you picked her up, feeling the comforting weight of her against your chest.

seungcheol followed you to her room, where you both tucked her into bed. she snuggled into the blankets, the smile still present on her lips. "it was the best birthday ever," she murmured before closing her eyes and falling asleep. you both stood there in silence for a moment, watching her sleep, both feeling a mix of emotions—love, nostalgia, and something more, something that was bringing you closer again.

when you left the room, the silence that followed was filled with tension, but it wasn’t a bad tension. it was a tension full of possibilities, of things left unsaid. seungcheol closed the door softly, then turned to you. "she was so happy today. thank you for this, y/n."

"i was happy too, cheol," you replied, the nickname slipping out before you could stop it. he had always been "cheol" to you, and in that moment, it felt natural to call him that again.

he smiled, a smile that warmed something inside you. "i missed you," he admitted, his voice low and sincere. "not just because of our daughter, but... you. i missed us."

his words hung in the air, and you knew the moment had come. everything that had been repressed, all the unspoken words and hidden emotions, began to surface. "i missed you too," you confessed, your voice shaky. "but i was so scared, seungcheol... scared that we’d make the same mistakes again."

he took a step towards you, stopping just inches away. "i know i made mistakes, and i’m sorry for all of them. but i never stopped loving you, not for a second. and today, seeing our daughter so happy, here with you... i realized there’s still something between us, something that might be worth fighting for."

you felt your heart race at his words, at the way he was looking at you with such intensity. "are you saying... you want to try again?"

"yes," he whispered, reaching out to gently cup your face. "i want to try again. i want to be a family again. if you still want that too."

tears welled up in your eyes as you nodded, unable to speak. instead, you closed the distance between you, leaning in until your lips met his. the kiss was soft, tentative, but it held the promise of so much more—a new beginning, a second chance. your bodies molded to one another with an ease that felt natural, as if all the scars and distances between you had never existed.

seungcheol pulled you closer, his hands firmly gripping your waist, and you found yourself sinking into that familiar, comforting feeling where the world around you ceased to matter. the warmth of your bodies, the feel of his touch against your skin, all of it stirred memories of times before the divorce, when you were inseparable, when the problems had not yet overshadowed the love you shared.

as the kiss deepened, the passion between the two of you reignited in an almost desperate way, as if you were trying to make up for all the lost time. seungcheol's hands traveled up your back, exploring every curve he knew so well, while you held his face, feeling the softness of his skin under your fingers. there was an urgency in his movements, as if he were trying to imprint himself in your memory, and you felt the same desire to make him understand just how much he still meant to you.

when you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, but neither of you moved away. seungcheol rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, while his fingers remained tangled in your hair. the silence between the two of you was filled with rapid breaths and the sound of hearts beating in unison, as if both of you were trying to absorb what had just happened.

"i love you, y/n. i always have," he whispered, his voice husky with emotion, the truth of his words echoing in the space between you.

you felt tears welling up again, but this time they were not of sadness, but of relief, of a renewed hope seeping into your heart. "i love you too, seungcheol. i always have. but i need to know that we won't lose ourselves again."

he opened his eyes, and what you saw there was a determination you had never seen before. his eyes, dark and intense, showed the depth of what he was feeling, the gravity of the moment. "we won't, y/n," he promised, his voice low but filled with conviction. "we'll do this right, together. for us and for our daughter. i won't let you fall again."

the intensity of his declaration made your heart pound harder. you were there, in a vulnerable place, but it was exactly what you both needed—to remember how perfectly you fit, how you were made for each other, and how, despite everything, that love still existed and was strong enough to survive.

the night continued, not with more words, but with gestures. you both let the feelings speak for themselves, rediscovering each other slowly and carefully. seungcheol's hands traced your contours as if he were rediscovering familiar territory, and at the same time, something entirely new. each touch, each caress, reignited something within you both, an old desire that had never disappeared, only lain dormant.

the intimacy between you was familiar, but there was a new layer of depth, an understanding that both of you had changed and grown, and that now you were ready to try again. the walls you had built, the hurts of the past, all seemed to vanish as you gave yourselves to one another.

when you finally nestled in bed, with seungcheol's arms firmly around you, something inside you settled. his chest was the safe haven you had lost, the place where all your fears and uncertainties seemed to disappear. the past was there, yes, but the future seemed brighter than ever, as if all the broken pieces were finally falling into place.

for the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to believe that everything would be alright. seungcheol was by your side, and you knew that together, you could overcome anything. he kissed your forehead softly, and the warmth of his touch was the confirmation that this was where you had always meant to be.

i think you would like to be informed that the second part is available. thank you for your support and patience, by the way. ( @kkkthrn @coupsbestleader @minhui896 @bouclesdefeu @lanatheawesome )

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Sympathy for Breakfast

(Part 1)

—

Time Written - 9:03 p.m

(Completely unrelated photo it’s just funny to me, also just a silly part 2 for no reason. SFW silly, he stands like this for a majority of this Drabble)

—

The early rays of morning sun sent an irritating glare of bright light through his mask when he feels a faint rumble, making him instinctively reach for his phone.

You coming home soon?

I have a surprise :)

Love you <3

Jason smiles at the screen, feeling glad that his girl woke up on the good side of the bed. However, he checked the time, slowly growing concerned as to why you were up so early.

The diner the both of you adored on weekends and midnights wasn’t even open yet.

A handful of thoughts course through his tired brain. Some of them concerning, some of them far from appropriate.

“Good morning, Mister Hood.” You smile from your position on the ground as he shuffled himself through the front door, carrying double bagged to-go boxes in hand.

The only comfort he had at this moment, besides the fragrant hot coffee inside the machine pot, was seeing your smiling, well rested expression. Your hair was styled to keep out of your way as your main focus, the ‘surprise’, was the project the two of you had been putting off on for a while.

“Babe, what’re you doing?”

You sat criss cross on the living room floor in front of an ash gray, large convertible crib, newly put together by yourself alone.

“Built the crib! Isn’t it pretty?” You extend your hands out towards the sight, the crib equipped with every detail perfectly in place. All you had to do left was add in the bedding onto the new mattress for your son, and it’s fully finished.

A very special bed for a very special boy, already loved before he’s even born.

“The box weighed a ton.” Was Jason’s first statement as he eyed the empty box and scattered foam borders. He sets his helmet and breakfast on the dining room table, approaching the messy living room.

“It wasn’t heavy,” you quickly state, gesturing your head over towards the corner of the living room, where the box had sat behind the couch for a good three months.

“It was super easy too! What do you think?” You immediately ask, not liking how he was too concerned for everything but the surprise.

Their was a cute, eager glimmer in your eyes as you stared up at him, like a little girl showing off her extravagant art piece. Right there, he understood why you had lately become quite OCD with all the baby’s essentials.

Sorting out all the supplies, washing all the clothes, ordering a new baby blanket set because it didn’t arrive in the shade of teal blue you wanted.

Nesting. You were nesting.

Cute.

“It’s nice,” Jason says, tilting his head as he examines the large crib. How the hell his eight month pregnant sweetheart built this heavy crib all on your own was a full body shiver he tried very, very hard to refrain expressing.

“Yeah, very nice. How’s it, uh… how’s it gonna fit through the door?”

“What?” Your smile slowly drops. “Huh?”

“I mean, it’s pretty wide?” Jason peeks over towards their semi open bedroom door. “I don’t think the crib will fit through…”

You go quiet, looking over at the crib you were proud of merely seconds ago.

“Huh??”

You express once more, noticing this large, extravagantly built crib, with bottom drawers prepared to pack in freshly washed baby clothes, would be a little too wide to push through the bedroom door. Especially with the bed in the way.

“But this took … this took forever!” Your voice held that tremble that Jason suspected would come, making him playfully pout.

“Awww, Princess.” He tried so hard to hold back a smile or laugh, quickly failing behind his gloved palm.

“Don’t laugh!” You yell up at him. “I was so proud of myself! This was the one time we buy something from IKEA, and I didn’t have to second guess the instructions a hundred times! Now you’re saying it won’t fit through the door!”

Cause it won’t. Jason wasn’t cruel enough to voice it, simply gazing down at his love, who hid her face from his view, still perched in the center of empty screw bags, power tools, and ever so finicky foam beads.

As tired as he was from patrol, this topped the cake of interesting things to happen yet.

He wasn’t delighted to see you cry aggravated tears from this daunting realization you completely missed, but the outcome of your hard work at such an early hour… only to be stumped, it’s funny. Jason can’t help that.

His shoulders bounced with his light laughter, settling down in front of his woman, who had exhausted hands covering that pretty face from him.

“S’okay Princess. Crib looks gorgeous, an’ you still possess all fingers and toes. Proud of you, but no more heavy lifting. Alright?”

His soft praise and gentle warning fell on acknowledging ears, but responded to with shameful silence. Jason couldn’t help that you were a little impatient with exciting tasks, he wouldn’t ask you to change that.

It’s like asking him to stop his horrible, eye rolling humor. Or twisted, cruelly timed jokes. It’s impossible.

He softly shushes you, kissing the top of your forehead. His eyes glance back to the crib, overall impressed at how you put it all together so well by yourself.

At the start of living in your own apartment, the both of you took many IKEA dates. Each night ended up in some form of aggravated frustration over a piece of furniture placed wrong, or the irritation of an extra screw from a missing slot once the entire piece was already finished.

“You take your vitamins?” Jason prompts, watching your head slowly shake no, still sniffling behind your hands.

You were too fixated on building the crib and getting everything together, you forgot the key component of a successful pregnancy; to worry about your own health. The biggest of priorities.

Yep. Nesting.

“We’ll eat, take your vitamins, an’ have our food comas. No worries ‘bout the crib mama, I’ll take care of it.”

Jason’s soothing voice was almost enough to settle your nerves, or the mention of food actually.

“Did you go to Benny’s?”

“Mhm. Got your favorite.”

“Can you help me up?” You reluctantly ask, giving him those pink flushed puppy eyes that he couldn’t go against.

“Whatever the lady wants.”

Tired muscles slip underneath your arms, cradling your sides as he helps you up off the ground. Your swollen belly nudges against his abdomen, making his heart melt. He wondered if your manic rush of dopamine woke up his boy, softly smirking at the idea of you chastising your relentlessly kicking son whilst building his future bed.

“Baby boy missed you, by the way.” You say, as if you just read his mind.

God, kill him already. His twice beating heart can’t take much more of this.

“He just wants food,” Jason chides before stepping to the side, letting you slowly waddle to the kitchen.

“We’re all on the same boat, Papa.”

God, please scratch that last thought. He’s in heaven.

Jason’s exhaustion didn’t stop him from nudging you towards your seat, taking the empty mugs from your hands to fill them with Colombian roast.

He wasn’t just being courteous; he was making sure you didn’t have too much caffeine, diluting the majority of your cup with your preferred milk.

After taking those vitamins you needed, Jason finally allowed himself to sit down and rest, too lazy to pull off anything other than his tactical belt and leather jacket.

He watches the love of his life through hooded eyes open your plate, your expression brightening as if you didn’t just sob over the crib mishap. Something he most definitely wasn’t going to mention at a manor dinner about three years from now.

Fluffy blueberry pancakes, piled with fresh fruit and savory sausage on the side. Honey cinnamon butter, and extra syrup. All topped with chocolate chips.

Beside it, an egg white spinach, cheesy omelette. With vegan cheese, for some odd reason. Suddenly, you had as much distain to cheddar and mozzarella, possibly most dairy, as you did to egg yolks in your omelettes.

This was your breakfast, The only meal out of your three meals a day that wasn’t invaded by a strange concoction of spicy pickles or vinegar based hot sauce. Or any other horrible last minute choices.

Something tells Jason that he’s going to see cake eaten for breakfast after the birth for a good while. Not like he’s going to complain, honestly.

Whatever he can do to combat the birthing blues, but that’s a concern for the future.

“Babe.”

“Hm?” You glance up from your plate before you dug in, seeing that same gentle smirk he carried on his face for the past four minutes.

“I was kidding, by the way.” His smile slowly grew the quicker it sets in, expecting to get pummeled by fruit after this;

“The crib will fit through the door.”

[charles-leclerizz]

🏎️ ๋࣭ ⭑ flustered tweets

🏁 Pairings : Max Verstappen X fem!Reader

🏁 Warnings : suggestive sexual themes, touching, kissing, licking etc. no explicit content, swearing, Daniel Ricciardo being a menace.

🏁 Word Count : 3.3k words (3352 words)

🏁 Author's note : First suggestive conntent on this blog! woo-hoo, light the fireworks. But I do hope you enjoy and as always please leave a comment or reblog, since they do fuel my motivation. <3 Note that word dividers are by @cottage-writings and as always, translations are available via radio comm.

🏁 Music player : Love by Lana Del Ray

You smile to yourself as you stare at your television screen, the metallic box was currently projecting your boyfriend’s face, post-race, red faced and sweaty. Positively gorgeous. His blonde hair was mused due to his helmet and droplets of water leaked down from the strands to his forehead, trickling down his temple to his chin where they dripped down to his fire-proofs. It was nearing the end of the interview, and that meant his favourite questions would begin to pop up, the personal ones.

“So Max, how’s the missus doing? Based off her Instagram it looks like you both are very happy.” The man holding the microphone smiled at the driver, who rolled his eyes playfully at the memory of the multitude of stories that you would post by the hour, in fact he was 99% sure that you had posted at least 5 whilst he was in the car.

“Yeah well, it’s a dream being with her, it really feels like I’m on cloud 9.” He gushed, a rare occurrence for the notoriously grumpy man, but as soon as you were brought up in conversation, it was as though he was a wilting sunflower that was just introduced to sunlight, “I’m doing all of this for her.” Max admitted bashfully.

“Well, if that isn’t proof of the it couple on the grid, then I don’t know what is.” The interviewer admitted, grinning at the lovesick expression on your boyfriend’s face, “But before I let you go, the fans were in uproar a few days before the race. Based on a tweet made by a fellow driver on the grid.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, as if his humorous actions would jog Max’s memory.

You, on the other hand, knew exactly of the tweet Mark, as he introduced himself as, was talking of. It was tweeted by none other than Daniel Ricciardo, the cheeky bastard decided to divulge the fans with a tidbit of information about Max and your sex life.

Just walked into the 2-time WDC and his girlfriend doing it like bunnies. Somehow, this man is never embarrassed.

You remember that day like no-other, it was the moment after the Spanish Grand Prix and Max had just won.

“I’m so proud of you,” You breathed against his lips, holding his face between your palms as your fingers fisted his hair, close enough to the root that he groaned outwardly. The scent of victory wafted from him as one of your hands snaked down between the two of you to unzip his race suit. Allowing you to push him against the hotel room wall and move down to lick thick, wet stripes against his pulse point, revelling in the taste of fresh champagne.

“heilige shit,” he breathed out, gnawing at his bottom lip whilst the hands that rested on your waist tightened and bruised his fingerprints against your skin.

 “Geliefde.” Max whispered, bringing his left hand up to grip the nape of your neck and guide your face away from the fifth fresh hickey you were creating on his muscle, towards his own, gazing into your eyes with a heavy stare.

“Yeah?” You answer, blinking rapidly to clear the misty haze that overtook your brain, all you could think of was the delicious way that his suit hung low from his hips and how tight his fireproofs were, exaggerating his muscular pecs that strained against the protective layer.

His chest rose and fell rapidly as you scratched your nails lightly down his scalp towards his thick collar that stuck to his body, “Maxie?” You prompt, fluttering your eyelashes at him.

He chuckled at your act, wrapping a large hand around your neck and squeezing gently at the sides, just enough for you to gasp, “What do you think the press will say huh? My girlfriend got too horny watching me win?” He guided you towards the freshly made bed, pushing you down to a sitting position as your knees hit the back of the padded mattress, “It’s okay though, mijn mooie vriendin-“ He paused, moving his hand up to cup your jaw and pull at your lower lip, parting your mouth until you obediently allowed him to slip his thumb in, “I only do this for you.” He murmured.

Max nudged you further, watching contently as you fell onto your back, sinking into the thick blanket and released his thumb with a loud pop. You laugh a little at his proclamation, “Really? You do this for me?” You bite your lip, fiddling with the comforter beneath your fingertips, pushing off from the bed as you anchor yourself on your elbows.

“You doubt me?” He arches an incredulous eyebrow at you, bending down to part your knees, “dat zal niet lukken.” He murmured, getting down onto his knees to hook your thigh onto his shoulder, allowing him to twist his head and kiss the sensitive skin, “What should I do to prove it to you? Huh?”

Max chuckled as you slipped your hand beneath the waistband of your shorts, pushing them down suggestively and he would’ve given into your request had it not been for the interruption.

“HEYYY CHAMP-“The friendly boisterous voice of a certain Australian rang through your hotel room, causing you to jump and grip your boyfriends head, which had merely jolted slightly before coming to rest against your opposite thigh, uninterested.

“Daniel.” Max deadpanned, his cerulean eyes merely slackened, cracking a lazy smile as his friend stopped in his tracks, blocking the door from what seemed to be at least half of the grid, “Must you really bother me?”

“Sorry man,” you heard Lewis call out, chuckling loudly as a familiar French cackle sounded off after a lewd comment sounding like, “damn he’s pussy-whipped”. You whimpered with embarrassment, falling back against the bed as you covered your face, hiding the blotchy blush that covered your face.

“Max” You whined, twitching your leg so that he could get up and most likely go out to celebrate, “Get up, we can continue this later.” You assured him, already imagining the dress that you would wear.

“See what you did wankers?” He called out, barely lifting himself up, “Made my girl embarrassed.” He admonished his colleagues.  Max looked up at you, cooing at your red face, “It’s okay, Mijn liefje. I’ll get them to leave.”

“Guys lets go” Lando called out, “Let the guy get his dick wet.”

“Ew gross.”

“Not my fault you’re single fuck-face.”

You groaned, “Guys!” The crowd settled at the sound of your harsh, crackly voice, “It’s fine, let us at least get ready?”

“Yes ma’am” Charles shouted, which was soon followed with sounds of violence and pathetic groans.

Max kissed your cheek, getting up from the floor to go and slam the door in the few faces, but before you could hear the satisfying wood beat against the hinges, Daniel had whispered, “How the fuck are you not embarrassed?” Which prompted more snickers and a flurry of agreements about your lover’s lack of humiliation.

“You should be embarrassed ass wipe.” Max chuckled as he pushed the group out of the doorway, “Walked in on me about to get the best meal money could never buy.”

If you thought about it too much the humiliation would creep back in, along with the curiosity.

Later that same evening, when your friends and you had gone out for dinner, your face was still flushed and any thought that led back to that moment in the hotel room would lead to you shaking your head promptly and diving back into conversation. Whereas Max was comfortably seated next to you, chatting happily as he sipped more alcohol from the flute by his porcelain plate whilst his free hand rested on your thigh, slipped underneath the silky material of your sundress.

It was as if the moment never happened and he was already fantasising about getting you back into the room, ready to bend you into different positions that would make your legs shake hard enough into next Sunday. He did infact, manage that.

Max laughed on your television screen, turning to look at Daniel, who was animatedly doing his own interview, “Yeah well, it’s hard to embarrass me,” he inhaled sharply through his teeth as he shrugged nonchalantly, “It really was just an inchident.”

Max winked cheekily at the camera as Mark laughed and patted his shoulder, “Nice to see Max, have a good one,”

“You too,”

You huffed out with amusement as you pointed the remote at the screen a certain calm filling the apartment as the light blinked away from the box in front of you. The sun was slowly setting on the streets of Monaco, a subtle signal that meant that your boyfriend would soon be returning home to you. Max would claim that home was where you were, but you could tell that the large penthouse was probably the closest alternative to the driver, it was a joint investment as a couple, the first of many and it was beloved by both of you.

Large windows that overlooked the high-end shopping district which curved with the positioning of the building, an oblong shape that influenced the soft edges of the entire apartment. The home was out of your Pinterest board, soft plush coaches and tall glass vases that littered every free surface, Max had claimed 2 of the 4 bedrooms, one of them being his office and the other being his specialist home gym. The third was saved for guests and the fourth, that resided on a separate floor; took over the entire area and was your shared bedroom. Luckily on his and your salary, the home was merely a drop in the ocean, along with the numerous pretty pennies you spent on furniture.

It was in other words, your baby.

Jimmy and Sassy slinked between your legs as you walked to the kitchen from your spot on the largest couch that was turned inwards to face the TV that was mounted within the ceiling, dropping down mechanically at the push of a button and retreating into the seemingly solid concrete at another. You had done exactly that, dismissing the piece of tech to show off the full-length balcony. Cooing at your fur-children you picked them up in one hand, “Come on guys, let’s finish dinner,” You kissed their heads, chuckling as they nuzzled into your face before letting them down on the floor in front of the sink when you went to put on a pair of gloves and fish out dinner from the oven.

The tell-tale chime of your elevator and the mechanical tone of the keypad informed you that Max was home, along with the cats going off to welcome their father from a long day of work,

“Hey guys,” you heard him greet the children whilst he kicked off his shoes and tucked them along with his jacket into the small cupboard that sat within the wall in the entrance hall. You turned away from the oven, placing the entire grill onto the kitchen island as you huffed happily at the dish within the Tupperware as Max walked further into the house and towards the kitchen, where you stood patiently, the soft sounds of the Vitamin String Quartet playing in the background.

“Hey, schat,” He murmured, eyes softening at the corners as he rushed to your side, tugging you away from the counter to wrap his hands around your and bury his head into your neck. You giggle at the tickle of his hair against your skin and bring your hands down to cover his that were wrapped around you, “Hello my love,” you whisper, turning your head slightly to kiss his forehead.

“You cooked,” He stated happily, smiling against you.

“I did.”

“I’m happy,” He confirmed, removing himself from your neck whilst keeping a firm hold on your waist, “How was work?”

“Same old same old, people want to invest in stocks, I do it for them. Very boring.” You rush through your day, recounting the odd events that went on in the office, “But I saw your interview, watched it on the archive.”

“Hmm,” He hummed, knowing that when you do watch the interviews, you normally do it to hear his voice and see his absurdly attractive post-race glow, not listen to the odd mechanical language and repeated statements of, “-push the car harder next race.” Or “-really disappointed this time.”

“Heard what you said about that tweet Daniel made,” You feel him kiss the skin behind your ear before snorting.

“What else could I say? Man doesn’t think before tweeting.” Max grumbled.

“Made me think-“

“Oh no.”

“Stop it.”

“Okay,”

“Anyway, made me think that I actually have never seen you blush.”

“I’m sure you have,” He assured you, untangling himself from you to get a chilled water bottle from the fridge behind you. You twist your body around, leaning back against the counter to watch his movements with squinted eyes.

“Hmm,” You tap your chin for a few seconds, “Nope, never.”

“Schat, it’s been almost two years,” He paused to crack off the top of the bottle, “I am positive you’ve seen me blush. And even if you haven’t, it’s no big deal.”

You huffed and crossed your arms childishly, “But I’m your girlfriend!” You reached out with your hands to grab his own slutty-man waist.

“Thanks for the reminder, had het anders niet geweten,” Max chuckled, allowing you to pull him by the waist to rest his abdomen just above yours.

“It’s a big deal Maxie, I’m meant to be able to make you blush,” You pouted up at him, scratching your nails up his spine, grinning as he shivered against your hold.

He took a final gulp from his bottle before minutely shifting to press harshly against a cupboard to reveal a hidden bin that popped out at his commend. Max dropped the empty plastic into the metallic cylinder and pushed the sliding contraption in again. He turned back to you, focussing on your large unblinking eyes and wet, pouting lips.

He held your face tenderly, kissing your forehead with his own, “S’okay schat, somethings just aren’t meant to happen.”

You pull away at his statement.

Like hell it won’t

“Nope, that won’t do,” You tug at his arm, guiding him into the separate dining room, a large area that was painted an off-white creamy colour, containing a brass sputnik chandelier that hung low against the white marble dining table which had at least 12 separate chairs tucked beneath its oval body. You pulled at the upholstered chair and dug your hand into the tactile Borg fabric before seating Max, who patiently trailed behind you whilst holding the separate doors open, allowing you to execute your plan perfectly.

You stood in front of the man, who was sat with his legs spread graciously in front of him with his large palms splayed against his slightly-less than normal skinny jeans. It was going to hard, yes. Harder than a diamond heist, to extract the long sought over blush from this well practiced stoic man. But you were determined.

Starting easily, you planted your hands on the arms of the chair and leaned forward, close enough that your noses were touching and lips ghosting over each other’s.

“What about this?” You whispered, eyes fluttering closed as you could begin to feel the small grooves and indents of his lips against yours along with his tongue licking at your bottom lip.

“Don’t think so, love.” He murmured back, laughing heartily when you groaned and pushed at his chest.

“Ok that’s it, take it off.” You folded your arms, tapping your foot impatiently.

“Woah, at least buy me dinner first?” Max’s eyes widened as you growled playfully and tugged at the hem of his branded red-bull shirt, “O-Okay okay, chill out you horny demon.”

“Good,” You huff, undoing the buttons of your light blue shirt, until you stood in just your bra and a long pair of silky lounge-wear pants, “We aren’t leaving here until you blush at least once.” You promised him, grinning manically when he stared at your chest.

You re-started once again, barely brushing your lips against the shell of his ear, smiling to yourself when his breath hitched and he groaned, “Anything?” You breathe out, licking slowly, lustfully at the sensitive skin between his ear and the nape of his neck.

“No,” Max denied, squeezing his eyes shut when you took the skin of his collar bone between your lips, sucking lavishly until you were sure of a dark blue love bite before moving inwards, littering the pale canvas with your marks.

“Come on Maxie, you know you want to,” You crooned moving further down, until your face was between his pecs and your hands were braced against the muscles, you dug your nails into his skin before dragging them slowly downwards whilst keeping your eyes locked with his, waiting for the victorious rosy tint to paint his face.

No luck.

“Maybe we should just give up? I can think of a lot of things I can do,” He just barely moaned out from between heavy pants whilst your mouth had made its way to his navel, leaving a wet trail in its wake. You shook your head slightly, flicking your eyes down to where your tongue lay flat against his stomach, “Are you fucking kidding me?” You complained, biting his abs.

“What? I can’t help it,” He defended, holding his arms up innocently before clenching his jaw shut when you began to fiddle with the button of his jeans.

“Yeah?” You challenge, getting up from the tiled floor to swing one leg to one side of his waist while the other sat on the opposite side, allowing you to straddle him and sit directly on his crotch whilst raising an eyebrow at his rolled back eyes.

“What about now Maxie?”

You winded your hips once. Twice. Until he came to hold your love-handles with a tight, possessive grip. Max leaned up, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, you whimpered when one of his hands slipped beneath your pants to snap the elastic of your underwear.

You pulled away, burring your hands in his hair and letting the soft strands flow through your fingers, “What about now?” You murmur, pushing yourself against his palm whilst arching your back. He hissed, smirking at your determination.

“Nope.” He removed both hands from your body to fold them behind his head and lean back, “Now what, schat?”

You slumped down and pulled at your bra strap contemplatively, “Dinner.” You stated simply, clambering out of his lap.

“That’s what I tho- wait why are your clothes on?” He asked you incredulously, pointing at the significant tent in his jeans.

“Max Emillian Verstappen I put a lot of effort into dinner tonight,” You scolded him with your pointer finger as you slipped on your shirt, leaving the buttons undone.

“W-what the-“ He spluttered reaching for your hand, “Seriously don’t do this,” he whined, adjusting his jeans with an uncomfortable expression.

“That’s what you get.” You shrugged, leaving him in the dining room, not before you bent down in front of him- swaying your hips suggestively as you collected his shirt from the floor and throwing it at him, “Don’t come out without your shirt on.”

The door slowly creaked shut, leaving Max still shirtless, flabbergasted at his inability to blush.

Well, not really.

He groaned loudly, balling up his shirt to hide the angry red flush that creeped up his cheeks and took over the entirety of his chest, ears and neck.

“HAH!” You called out, re-emerging from the door with a bang, “I KNEW IT.” You had your phone in your hand, displaying a perfect picture of his flustered state, the blonde was buried within his team’s shirt and was very obviously scarlet, “NOW THE WORLD WILL KNOW!” You shouted victoriously, jumping up and down in your spot, shirt still unbuttoned.

You squealed when Max jumped and growled at you, “Get back here, I’ll give you something to tweet about.”

📻 Kcccchh.... come in.... come in...translatiion available...over

📻 Kchh...Dutch....to english....over

heilige shit - Holy shit

Geliefde - Love [r]

mijn mooie vriendin - my beautiful girlfriend

dat zal niet lukken - that won't work

Mijn liefje - My darling

schat - Darling/Love/Babe [term of endearment]

had het anders niet geweten - wouldn't have known otherwise

[starkeyisthelastname]

Could you write some more stepbro! Rafe with pregnant reader (it being his baby) pls?

“This the right place?” Rafe asked, gum in his mouth as he looked past his Ray-Bans at the building before him. You glanced at it with a nod, gathering your purse in one hand. “Thank you again for taking me to this. I know it was a long drive.” You told your step-brother, who shrugged.

Traveling to the mainland for your ultrasound appointment was already a hassle and with Ward on a business trip, and your mother showing a property, Rafe was the only option left. He was your child’s father and you did want him to be one who was there with you through this, despite the secret circumstance.

The 6’2 man couldn’t have looked more bored as he sat in the chair, lanky body slumped down while the two of you waited for the doctor. While he had purposely gotten you pregnant, he didn’t think that it would actually happen. Now that you were 28 weeks, it was becoming more real everyday for him. He was beginning to become closed off instead of excited as the reality was hitting at just how messed up this was and he had to be quiet about it. The problem was, Rafe didn’t care that you were his step-sister and the fact he had to hide all of this for the sake of his family was bullshit to him.

“I take it your dad?” The doctor asks with a chuckle as she looked at Rafe looking uncomfortable as she checked you.

Rafe wasn’t use to being asked that question, especially on the island. With both of you being unfamiliar faces, he nodded slowly.

“I know this isn’t the fun part to watch, but I assure you that you are about to like what’s next.” She told him, taking her gloves off. Dimming the lights, she placed the gel on your round belly and moved the wand around. Pressing a few buttons on the screen, the both of you waited until she turned the monitor around.

In the 4D image, you could see a clear image of the baby girl inside of you. Your heart stopped and you looked over at Rafe who’s blue eyes had now widened at seeing your baby in a clearer picture. “She looks like you.” You whispered softly, reaching out for his hand. You felt his larger one grasp yours tightly, his eyes never leaving the monitor.

“Those are definitely my ears.” He laughed for the first time that day, a genuine smile on his handsome face.

[millie-multifics]

Miles to Go

Jack Abbot x f!Attending!Reader

The nurses sense a shift between you and Jack, despite the distance between trauma one and triage.

Warnings: PTSD, mentions of violence and injuries, panic attack present, description of infection, slight thirsting.

Word Count: ~1k

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Previous | Next

x x x

Hour Two: Triage

5:00am

Your nose had been burning for an hour, your time away from the harsh aseptic smell had desensitized your healed nostrils. It made you miss the sandalwood scent of the aromatherapy candles Jack had insisted would aid your recovery. The new rubbery soles of your shoes squeaked against the tile as you approached the nurse’s station. Glancing at the screen, you searched for any empty beds.

“Look who it is.”

“I am not talking to you.” You glanced at Bridget, folding your arms to make yourself as menacing as possible. You could hear the other nurses snicker before you caved and tore your eyes away from the board. “Did you really have to share with Jack whatever it was that you heard on the phone?”

She hummed with amusement, unable to hide the mischievous glint from her eye. “Did it stir something up?”

The phone at the desk rang before you could reply, saving you from accidentally revealing the next piece of hot gossip for any eavesdropping nurse to spread.

“Incoming pedestrian vs. vehicle; eta 4 minutes.” Bridget directed over your head, to the male attending you had not realized was standing a few feet behind you.

Abbot inspects you again, noting the small sniffles you were attempting to hide and the shifting to maintain weight off your left leg. “You are supposed to be in triage.”

“There are 13 patients currently waiting to be triaged, 8 waiting on labs or scans, 6 with results back awaiting a bed and I treated and discharged 4 with minor ailments or wound care.” You sipped the remainder of your coffee to hide your satisfied smirk. “I came back here because I have a patient with an infected tattoo It looks as though it has surpassed oral antibiotics, might even be the start of sepsis but I’m still waiting on their labs to come back. Came to see if there is a bed available.”

“Central 3 just opened up.” He nodded to the empty bed across the room. “You know it wouldn’t kill you to sit in a chair while taking vitals, if your leg is sore.”

“It’s not,” You scoffed, “I am fine.”

He held his hands up in surrender before rushing off to prepare for the incoming trauma.

“Alright Mr. Driscoll, what brings you in this morning?” Despite your best attempt, you could not help but to stand at the edge of the room, surveying the patient and assessing risk factors from afar. You had caught yourself doing this for every patient you had seen since the beginning of your shift.

“Chest pains, woke me from my sleep.”

“Any family history of heart disease?”

“Not that I’m aware.”

You offered him a thermometer, waiting a few seconds before registering the temperature; 98 degrees. A perfectly normal temperature meaning his symptoms were unlikely caused by an illness.

“Eat any high fat foods lately?”

He shifted in his chair, his quickly growing agitation becoming apparent. “What does that have to do with chest pains?”

“Severe heartburn or gallstones can present as chest pain.” You explained, quickly wrapping up the preliminary examination as you began to feel uncomfortable under the mans heavy stare. “Okay Mr. Driscoll, I’ll be sending orders for an EKG to measure your heart rate, as well as a chest x-ray and blood tests to get a closer look.”

Your palm slammed against the restroom door, uncaring of your harshness when your breath caught in your chest. Sweat coated your neck and forehead, sticky and cool. The weight of the mans stare had been too familiar, full of confrontation and predation. Your body felt as if it were floating, your vision blurring as you gripped desperately to the counter. Suddenly, you were on the floor, pain radiating throughout your body. The red of your blood contrasting the white tiles as your ears rung. You could vaguely hear shouting, though it sounded like you were underwater. You tried to move, attempting to lift your body off the polished floor as you sobbed in pain.

Jack had spotted you darting through the emergency room, head tucked into your chest as you avoided colliding with the patients and nurses milling about. He watched as you slammed open the restroom door, brows wrinkling in concern as he noted that you had disappeared into the men’s restroom. His feet were moving before he could think, merely a foot away from the restroom door when he heard it…

“Dr. Abbot, code in trauma one.”

You coughed, trying to gulp air into your lungs. Your legs felt heavy as you realized you were not crumbled on the floor but standing, no injuries and no blood. As you caught your breath, your vision cleared. Facing your own tearful eyes in the mirror, you suddenly missed Jack’s steady stare.

It had not been intentional, to ever feel this way about a colleague. You had thought to yourself that the attending was quite handsome upon first glance; noting the subtle curl in the tips of his salt and pepper hair, the playfulness hidden behind his serious exterior and maybe you did have to correct yourself a few times after admiring the way his scrubs hugged his biceps but that crush had been crushed after your first year, or so you thought.

Until you were stuck in a hospital bed, confused, in pain and frightened. Jack had come in on his day off to make sure you were okay; he sat next to your bed until you had fallen asleep then helped you get home once you were released. You had not expected him to stay, to make you dinner and tuck you into bed. Nor come back the very next morning to stock your refrigerator.

Two weeks in when you finally admitted that the physical pain was not what had been keeping you up at night, he arrived with aromatherapy candles and an air mattress- merely stating that there was no way he would be sleeping on your lumpy couch.

He slowly helped you heal without making you feel like a patient or a project, simply cared for and safe.

x x x

Tags: @nosebeers @eugene-emt-roe

[jackiescents]

🩺 Unexpected | Y. Garcia x Reader 

Summary: After a patient tries to flirt with you, you mention having a girlfriend in front of a co-worker and refuse to elaborate when they press for answers until they finally find out who it is

WC: 1.5K

AN: there is a joke of an age gap from R in this lol 🤪

You hummed to yourself as you worked your way through the charts night shift left, slowly getting into the groove of your shift. A familiar voice caught your attention, pulling your eyes from the computer you were met with your girlfriend throwing a teasing comment to Langdon. You held back a laugh as they made their way to the computer you were working on.

“Y/N, please tell Doctor Garcia that today is ED’s day and that surgery gets tomorrow,” Frank huffed, though you could hear the lightheartedness in his words. 

You laughed and shook your head, “I’m not getting in the middle of this again,” you responded as you sat back in your chair.

Frank groaned before going on a tangent about surgery getting all the best patients, though you easily tuned him out. Instead, your focus was on Yolanda and the way she was leaning against the counter. You normally would hold yourself back from checking her out at work, but the two of you weren’t public even though you’d been together for almost a year. You both preferred the privacy of your relationship, but sometimes you did wish you could be more open about things at work. 

Her eyes met yours as she turned her head away from Langdon, and she sent you a subtle wink, one that went unnoticed by your fellow resident, given his determination to prove his point. You quickly diverted your eyes back to your computer screen to school your reaction, missing the smirk on the surgeon’s face. 

“Y/N! Could I get a hand with a patient?” Collins' voice broke through Langdon’s rant as she joined the three of you by the computer. 

“Anything to get away from Langdon,” you joked as you stood up, winking at the pair (though mostly Yolanda) as you followed Collins to one of the more closed-off rooms on the floor.

“Hey!” Langdon gasped, earning a laugh from the three of you. 

You mumbled a soft ‘Thank you’ as Heather held the door open for you. Once you were fully in the room, you smiled at the elderly woman sitting in the hospital bed. “Miss Adams, Doctor Y/N is going to be helping out today. How are you feeling?” Collins started as she pulled up the woman’s chart. 

“Better now that they brought in the pretty doctors, way better than the ones that moved me in here,” Miss Adams teased as she sat up more in her bed. 

You and Heather laughed at her remarks before quickly diving into assessing her causes for being in the ER. The exam took about fifteen minutes, and a quick call for an X-ray before you were wrapping up. 

“Say, when they let me outta here, we get a drink,” the elderly lady joked once more, earning another round of laughter from the two of you. 

“I don’t think my girlfriend would be too happy if I said yes,” you teased with a playfully shrug. You caught Collins’s surprised reaction to you mentioning you had a girlfriend, but didn’t comment on it. 

“She’s very lucky then,” Miss Adams winked as you and Heather headed for the door. You threw her a smile before pulling the door closed behind you. 

Moving to the counter to return the tablet you had used to the charging dock, Collins was right behind you. “Girlfriend? Since when have you been seeing someone?” she whispered-yelled, her eyes wide. 

“Almost a year,” you shrug like it was nothing as you turn to face her. 

“A YEAR?” Her voice got higher, and shock was evident on her features as you slowly smirked and nodded. “Who is it?” she added, her tone back to normal now. 

“Not tellin’,” you smiled, turning back to look at the board of patients, looking for your next case. 

Collins gasped as you walked away, pulling both Mohan and Santos with you to your next patient. You didn’t see Heather for a couple of hours after that, doing your best to avoid her to avoid any more questions about your dating life. 

After leaving the room of the elderly Miss Adams after her X-ray results, Collins ran into Langson and Garcia again. The pair was discussing a patient who had come into the ER earlier and was in rough shape. 

“Did you two know Y/N was seeing someone? For almost a whole year?” Collins muttered, her voice low around the nurses, knowing they had a knack for gossiping. 

“WHAT,” Langdon yelled and was immediately met with ‘Shhhs’ from Collins. “What,” he repeated, his voice lower this time. 

Yolanda kept her reaction neutral, though she was a bit surprised you had mentioned being in a relationship. She opted for a simple shake of her head, waiting for Heather to further explain how she found out. 

“We were treating an older woman, and she made a joke about getting drinks when she got out of the ER, and Y/N said something like ‘my girlfriend wouldn’t be happy if I said yes.’” Collins explained. 

“A year and we didn’t know…” Langdon huffed, confusion lacing his voice. 

It wasn’t uncommon for your co-workers to not know everything about your private lives outside of the hospital, but the four of you were friends. Langdon was more shocked that you managed to keep it yourself instead of accidentally blurting it out on various occasions.  

Yolanda didn’t get a chance to comment further before she was paged for surgery. “If you two find out anything else, let me know,” she joked, despite knowing everything that they didn’t. 

Later in the day, you finally found a moment to breathe after being on the go since early this morning. You sighed as you used the counter to stretch, the ache from being on your feet all day starting to kick in. 

“I heard you were seeing someone,” the voice you knew and loved pulled you from your thoughts. 

You chuckled softly as you stood up straight, turning to lean your side against the counter to face your girlfriend. “Yeah, I think she was in room fourteen last I checked,” you teased with a soft smile. 

“Cute,” Yolanda joked as she slid a bit closer to you, no longer caring about being found out at work now that people know you were seeing someone. 

“What can I say,” you started with a shrug. “The older women in the hospital must love me,” you hum as you close the gap a bit more. 

“They definitely do,” the surgeon smiled, clearly talking about herself. 

Neither of you noticed Collins coming into the main nurses’ station in the middle of your talk. Her eyes widened seeing the closeness between the two of you and the smiles gracing both of your faces. She caught Langdon’s attention, subtly pointing at the two of you. He turned to see what she was pointing at, his brows furrowing in confusion at first before his jaw dropped. 

He quickly stood up, making his way to where you were standing with Collins quick to join him. “It’s you?!” Langdon gasped as he pointed at Yolanda. Your eyes widened at his words, and before you could try to change the subject, Yolanda turned to face him with her arms crossed and a smug smirk on her face. 

“It is,” her usual cockiness lacing her words, clearly enjoying the shock on both of their faces. 

“How? You’re you and she’s so..” he started, his question directed to you as he pointed to each of you.

You both raised a brow at his words, knowing what he meant but still finding it amusing to mess with him. “I just mean… Y/N is so nice and Garcia isn’t,” he stuttered out, trying to clarify what he meant.

“She’s nice to me,” you smirk, shooting your girlfriend a look of amusement. 

“Why didn’t you say anything,” Heather butted in, changing the subject as Langdon’s confusion only grew. 

“Wanted to keep it between us. We didn’t wanna make a big thing here,” Yolanda shrugged, her hand moving to lace her fingers with yours now that she doesn’t have to avoid touching you at work.

“Well, we’re happy for you,” Collins said after a moment. “Aren’t we, Frank?” she shot him a look and jabbed him with her elbow.

“Yeah! So happy,” he nodded, though you could see he was still working it out in his head. You know he means well, and it’s going to be fun messing with him about it.

You and Yolanda both laughed at his reaction, happy to be able to be more affectionate at work now. She squeezed your hand tightly before letting go as her pager went off. 

“Gotta go save lives,” she hummed before turning to you. She leaned in to quickly kiss your cheek before mumbling, “I’ll see you later.” 

You smiled as you watched her walk off, ignoring the teasing comments your friends were already throwing your way. You knew they’d be ready to tease you the moment they found out, but you couldn’t bring yourself to mind them now that you could at least publicly talk about your girlfriend at work.

[stargazerdaisy]

Losing Jackson might have been the worst thing for Lucy's character development.

Obviously, your best friend dying is a massive personal loss and affected Lucy as a person incredibly deeply. But storytelling wise, losing Jackson and his place in Lucy's life has done the character of Lucy a disservice. (I am fully aware that the actor wanted to leave the show, which left the writers with only a few options. I am not criticizing the choice to kill him off, just analyzing the fallout of it on Lucy.)

Jackson and Lucy were incredibly close friends and roommates, plus work colleagues. They were together all the time and they knew each other so deeply. They were ride-or-die supportive, but also willing to share hard things when needed.

Lucy doesn't have that anymore.

Her biggest support is Tim; he is her best friend. Rachel is a non-entity, both on screen and in the background story. Nyla and Angela are so obsessed with each other and busy with their families, that they haven't gotten close with Lucy specifically. Bailey is all about Nolan and Nolan hasn't been super tight with Lucy in years. Aaron and Lucy were getting closer, but never quite got there before he left. Celina and Lucy have the potential to get there, but they aren't now, and it will take some time to narrow/overcome the differential between them. And Lucy does not see Tamara as an equal, as someone she can lay her burdens on. That basically leaves only Tim.

While people are supportive of her and care about her, that's not the same as being there intimately and being secure enough to call her on her BS. Tim can and has done that. He called her out about not loving Chris, about her feelings for him, and so on. And he was always the first person she went to, and almost always was there for her. That just adds to the immense grief and loss she felt when they broke up.

But that means there is no one who can do that for her now.

Her story has been so wrapped up with Tim, that there was never room for anyone to fill that void left by Jackson. She doesn't have someone who can look at what's going on under her words and public image and then talk to her about it. I think there are a few people who see that she's putting on a braver face than she truly feels, but they either are too busy or don't feel like they can say anything to her. And Tim certainly can't push her on all of this, since 1) he's the reason for all of her hurt and 2) is trying to win her over without imposing his will over hers. Like, that's the specific issue that caused so much conflict! So he really, really cannot do it.

Lucy is incredibly smart and wise and understands feelings and behavior so well, her own included. She can explain and analyze everything. But she uses that to cover up her own actual feelings. Case in point, in Now and Then (2x12), right after being buried and rescued, she comes back to work. Everyone is checking in on her, and she's rebuffing them, telling them she's fine, she went through all the mandated therapy, she's processed, and on and on. She uses all the right terminology and plasters on a bright smile. And then she freaks out at the speed dating event with Angela and Nyla. She could say all the right words and she truly did understand them, but she still had the feelings!!!

She intellectualizes her feelings, rather than feeling them, a lot of the time. Some of my favorite moments of Lucy, when she felt most authentic and most honest, were when she was losing her temper and yelling. Her getting fierce and barking at Tim in Impact (2x01), that he can rake her over the coals but don't pretend he's doing it because he has a code. Her losing her shit and yelling, so angrily, at Tim in Secrets and Lies (6x06) about Ray and the leaving her out. And a few others. These are AMAZING moments for her when she stops analyzing her feelings and what other people's perceptions are, and just acts on her emotions and lets them really show.

And now, I really think she needs someone to get her to confront her own feelings. Jackson would have done that, especially after everything that happened with Tim (all of it, ups and downs). There are people that have the knowledge and history to do that (Angela would be great, Genny would be a fabulous choice, even Harper would get right to the heart of it), but they aren't with her enough to actually push. She will try to deflect and deny, and she needs someone who will stare her down and gently, but firmly, poke at the wound until she opens it back up and finally addresses healing it properly. But since the story hasn't put anyone into that position, Lucy is stuck without meaningful support.

[mattsgracie]

help (not) wanted!

matt was furious. sat by his station as his task manager gave out amazing jobs to everyone and he got, well, the job of being a princess’ bodyguard. what? oh today was just not his day. matt wasn't looking forward to watching some stuck up, perky princess who basically had the world delivered at her fingertips.

which is how he ended up here, being lectured by his department manager.

“sturniolo. i told you, this is where we put you because it suited your skills best.” her voice was stern, and she barely looked up at him from her desk, her fingers typing away something on the holographic screen.

“i just think i’d be better doing some actual spy work, not play bodyguard for a princess when they could get an actual guard for her-”

“matthew.” her voice rang through matt ears, her tone very unhappy. she rose from her chair, her posture straight and face firm making matt feel improper and like a little kid out of place.

matt straightened up, “yes ma’am?”

“the next complaint i hear, you’ll be moved back down to level 3, and there will be no chances trying to get back here.” matt sighed, his shoulders slumping, “fine nat.” he shook his head in disbelief, making his way back to his room to get ready and be deployed off to some princess kingdom. oh matt was not looking forward to this one bit.

the flight to where you currently reside was about 13 hours long, matt hated every minute of it. he was next to a screaming child and a mother who could barely handle the poor kid on 2 hours of sleep.

after taking a taxi to where his ‘place’ would be for the next few months of his life, matt practically threw his bag in the apartment, closing the door behind him.

matt looked around the apartment quickly, it wasn't furnished too much, but it looked lived in. he rolled his eyes when he caught sight of the picture placed by none other than nat, it was of him and his two brothers, chris and nick.

he missed them, but they had their own duties to attend. chris was about to be a father and nick- well he was off seeing the world with an italian man that matt was sure the man was lying about his age.

matt huffed and sat on the couch, other than feeling homesick and jetlagged, he could do this. there was a reason nat put matt on the job and he’d prove it to her that he’d do his damn best.

✿

matt grumbled as he opened his eyes to the harsh amber and tangerine rays of the sun lit up the apartment. a groan left his lips as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and sat up shortly after.

he looked down at his watch only to shoot up in a frenzy, of course he was late on the first day. just his luck. he practically tripped over his feet the entire time getting ready, he also had no time to shave his little bit of stubble coming in.

matt shrugged on a grey denim jacket over his white t-shirt and jeans as he brushed his teeth, spitting out the toothpaste and throwing his toothbrush into the cup. he grabbed his debrief folder, the one that told him what roll he needed to play to get this job done faster than expected.

he got into the car provided for him and started the drive, an apple in his hand and folder on the center console that he looked at now and then.

matt pulled into where you worked, which did surprise him. most undercover princesses didn't chose to work and decided to leech off the funds they already had, not like that was a problem. finding work was hard these days, even for royal life. he locked his car and made his way into the pet daycare and when he saw all the cats and dogs his breath was immediately taken away. these pets were gorgeous, matt was a weak man for animals and these animals were no exception.

“can i help you?” your voice rang through matts ears, bingo. matt turned to you and smiled, “hello,” he said, walking over towards the counter you stood behind. matt studied you secretly, “i’d like to apply for a job.”

you smiled at him, giving him a once over, “well that's wonderful, but i’m not really looking for any help at the moment.”

okay, minor setback, but matt could persuade his way. “i’m desperate.” he said, his smile dropping. “right. nice jacket by the way. ralph lauren, doesn't look so desperate to me.” you said, looking away from matt and down to the dog that had started to jump on matt, “wesley. get down.”

your words registered in matts head, you knew the brand? of course you did, who was he kidding.

“it’s my brothers.”

“why don't you go work for your brother then?”

“-brothers wifes brothers.”

“you really are desperate aren't you?”

“you have no idea.” matt replied although his desperation was to be done playing knight in shining armor. matt was over this job before it even started.

you sighed, looking back at the man in front of you, “alright then. whats your name?” matt smiled, his posture straightening like he just won a prize, “my name is matt.”

“matt.” you said, testing his name on your tongue. you weren't a big fan of help but you could use someone to handle wesley while you were tending to the other cats and dogs.

“you’ll be wesley’s personal helper, not mine.” you said, which made matts brows furrow, “the dog needs a helper?” he asked.

you snickered, “you wanted a job, i gave you a job. wesley is only a baby, 3 months old. he’s in everything. your job is to make sure he's not being too curious when another dog is eating, getting groomed, getting a check up or anything along those lines.”

matt nodded, “right then.”

“you start monday.” you said, turning away.

matt left shortly after looking back at all the other pets, well that was easy to some extent. he shook his head as he got in his car, not only did he have to deal with a princess, but it was a girl who refused help from anyone by the looks of it.

matt only hoped he'd get a raise after.

✿

you watched as matt left your store, looking back at the animals behind you, “well then. guess it’s no longer just us huh wesley?” you picked up wesley, setting the golden retriever down on the counter, “you’ll take care of that guy alright?” you said, kissing the crown of the dogs head before putting him back down.

you turned up the dial on your counter, turning up the pop music and taking your animals for weekly baths. you got lost in your thoughts as you started washing a shih tzu named belly. her wide brown eyes boring into you as you mumbled under your breath for accepting any kind of help.

✿

matt took a drive around the town to get accustomed to where he was. he was parked in front of a bakery, a donut in one hand and hot coffee in front of the other, he was reading up on your file, he almost felt bad for judging you as he read up on you. matt was brought out of his thoughts by a knock on his car window, matt grumbled, closing the file and putting it in his glove box before opening the window slightly, his blue eyes meeting a pair of green eyes.

“are you new in town?” the guy asked him.

“somewhat.” matt responded, still peering at the stranger in front of him.

the stranger only hummed, before nodding, “welcome to town.”

matt watched as the stranger walked off and into their own car, huh, so weird matt thought to himself before shrugging and driving off.

a/n: okay welcome spy matt! i love him sm hes one of my fave aus i hope whoever reads this will love him

[theresatzu]

Wait what about Nagi with a girlfriend who’s just as much of a sloth as him, hates getting up and spends all her time on screens

Ooohh that's a nice concept! I'd imagine that they're actually both unwilling to do anything, ranging from doing the dishes or even cleaning, resulting in the both of them just doing... nothing.

Or letting Reo's butler handle it ;)

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°●°●°

Hearth - Nagi Seishiro

Pairings. Nagi Seishiro x reader.

Characters. Nagi Seishiro, reader insert.

Tropes: Fluff, lazy ahh, domestic life.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°●°●°

Nagi Seishiro was a certified slug.

He dragged his feet all day, could hardly muster up the motivation to go to school, and took more breaks than work periods.

His mindset consisted of just getting through the day with either sleeping or playing video games.

It was a stark contrast to the countless of razing parties and intense sport events that his classmates were more inclined to initiate.

When Nagi looked at them, he thought about competitive spirits and venturesome blazes that burned brightly in his fellow peers.

But Nagi Seishiro was something more akin to a hearth: His fire burned comfortably and short, needing only a little bit of nurture to be kept alive.

Others raised skeptical and questioning eyebrows at this way of living, not at all being able to relate to Nagi's sluggish lifestyle.

So then imagine how surprised Nagi was, when he met a hearth with an engine burning as sparse as his.

L/n Y/n, a girl who was as passive and leisure as he was.

Considering both of you weren't really that enterprising, it took a long while for you to actually progress in your relationship.

However, the moment you did meet up and hang out, (courtesy of one Reo Mikage) you hit it off instantly.

Lazing around all day, playing videogames, and napping sporadically throughout the daytime.

Those were pastimes Nagi dabbled in alone, but now he had a companion who actually seemed to take up that laid-back lifestyle, too.

And so, Nagi Seishiro gained another friend aside from Choki and Reo.

It was just another average Sunday, which meant sleeping in was the norm.

The daylight filtered through the half-drawn blinds, casting the room in a pleasant blanket of warm rays, and hitting your face.

It must've been around 10.

You sluggishly blinked, as your consciousness slowly went active, sitting up and allowing your face to get warmed up by the sun.

"Y/n?" Nagi yawned, having been woken up by your sudden movements.

He blearily rubbed his eyes, arms tightening around your middle as he placed his face against your stomach.

Seeking the warm of a hearth.

"What are you doing?" Nagi dragged. "Come back, you're warm."

"I'm tired." You settled back against Nagi's body, tucking your chin against your boyfriend's fluffy white locks.

"Mhm... this is nice..." Nagi mumbled, voice thickened with sleep.

"Mh." Your eyes fluttered shut, arms slung around Nagi's frame.

Sleeping was just energising when you did it alone.

But when done together, it was much more. Like sharing your most vulnerable side to each other, or trusting the other enough to be the first thing to see upon waking.

And maybe, that wasn't a hassle at all.

What actually was a hassle, was having to provide for yourself, when neither of you had enough energy to do so.

You opened the fridge, peeking inside. But frowned when you noticed there was nothing left, aside from some some rotting vegetables bought months prior.

"Sei," You spoke simply, because pronouncing his whole name equated to having to put in more effort, "We've nothing left."

"Huh?" Nagi answered from the couch, the faint sounds of his videogame originating from his phone.

"Can you go to the store?" He spoke without looking up from his phone.

You pursed your lips. "I don't want to."

"I don't want to either."

"..."

"..."

"I'm still hungry."

"..."

"..."

"Order take-out?" Nagi suggested.

"Yeah."

After having dragged yourself to the quaint table, you both dug into your take-out meal.

There weren't many words exchanged, except for a few comments about the food, nevertheless, the air was pleasant and comfortable.

Nagi sneezed then. "Oh. The house's stuffy."

You looked up from your meal. "Do we have to clean?"

Nagi shrugged. "We can ask Reo's butler."

"...okay."

And then you both returned to your meal.

After having eaten your fill, the both of you went back upstairs, curling up in the messy bed.

You draped the blanket over both of you, before leaning back against Nagi, his warmth enveloping you.

Nagi sighed, burying his head in your hair, as you both shifted to get comfortable to turn in for the night, despite it only being 8.

To many, this short day that started at 12 and ended at 8, was perceived as tedious and devoid of anything exciting.

However, for the both of you, this was actually a much more preferred way of spending your time.

Because who would ever dislike curling up by the warm hearth?